


The Potters and the Weasleys

by goodlife23



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 82,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23400634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodlife23/pseuds/goodlife23
Summary: The Potter and the Weasley families have been enemies for over a century. But when two descendants meet at Hogwarts, will old grudges give way to new friendships? Or are some wounds too deep to heal? AU
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 80
Kudos: 143





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This fic will change the ages of characters and shift the timeline of the events of the First Wizarding War some.

“Bloody hell, where is James?” Gideon Prewett asked, wiping soot from his black robes as he stepped out of the fireplace. 

“He said he’d be here,” answered Fabian Prewett, his handsome face scrunched as he surveyed the room.

Gideon and Fabian proceeded to mutter an elaborate series of spells to secure the safe house, which appeared more like a run-down, unassuming cottage on the outside. Ivy grew wildly on the walls, the roof was partially caved in and the lawn resembled a dirt patch. The Order of the Phoenix didn’t even bother to place it under the Fidelius Charm as no one could possibly think anyone actually lived there. 

Inside, however, the cottage was quite hospitable, with a working fireplace, a small but functional kitchen, and a modest-sized bedroom. 

“I guess whoever lived here never heard of an interior decorator,” said Gideon, gesturing towards the yellow couch set against the lime green wall. Fabian simply nodded.

Once finished with the charms, the brothers conjured a large sofa and Fabian set about brewing tea. They settled into a long, tense silence. 

The setting sun peered through the living room window and hit Gideon in the eyes. He stood and began pacing the room, his left hand constantly rubbing the right. “He said he was going to meet us at Figgs,” Gideon finally said.

“I’m sure he just got held up. He’ll be here,” assured Fabian, but Gideon just snorted in response.

“You always assume the best of him,” said Gideon.

“And you think the worse for reasons I will never understand.”

“He’s an arrogant berk, Fabian. Everyone knows that. Why Lily would marry him, of all people, is beyond me.”

“It’s not our place to wonder about their marriage. And often I wonder just why you hold him in such ill regard.” Gideon started to speak but Fabian held up his hand. “Ah, yes, the famed Potter-Weasley feud. Tell me, brother, why we should concern ourselves with a centuries-old squabble between two families over a couple of goats.”

“Maybe because our sister married a Weasley And it was a whole herd of goats.,” Gideon said, halting his pacing.

“If Molly wants to get herself in a tizzy over the Potters because of her husband, who might I add never seemed too concerned with the feud himself, then that’s her right. But I like James, for what it’s worth. I know Molly has filled your head with stories from school, but James has never come across as arrogant to me. Maybe a little confident, but I trust Lily would not marry someone as awful as who Molly describes,” Fabian said, crossing one leg over the other as he finished his tea.

Gideon rubbed his chin. “Right, I’ll give you that much. Lily is a bloody saint of a woman, but blood is thicker than ale, and I’ve seen enough of James to say he’s a git. A git who is leaving us to fend for ourselves on this mission.”

“I’m sure he will be here. But if you would like, we can start going over the plan.”

“Might as well since Potter won’t show anytime soon.”

Fabian rolled his eyes but began detailing the night’s mission. It was a rather simple mission by Order standards, reconnaissance of suspected Death Eater activity in the small English village of Blockley. Dumbledore had surmised that Voldemort was doing heavy recruiting in these smaller villages. The local wizarding population was rather bored and looking for trouble. Voldemort provided not only entertainment but purpose for a segment of wizards and witches who felt the Ministry was putting more resources into assimilating Muggleborns than protecting purebloods. 

The Order was losing the war against Voldemort and recruitment was a major reason why. The Order and Ministry were clearly the more skilled groups, with Dumbledore, Alastor Moody and the Longbottoms amongst their ranks, but the numbers of Death Eaters swelled to huge levels. Tonight’s mission was about determining exactly how Death Eaters were being so successful and who exactly was in charge of these efforts.

While Gideon and Fabian were quite different in temperament, they both agreed on a few things: that firewhiskey was best consumed in large quantities, that Doris Caldwell was the most beautiful Hufflepuff in their year, and that Dumbledore was stalling. The brothers felt that Dumbledore needed to confront Voldemort immediately and vanquish him. Fabian had pled the case several times, as he was the more eloquent and even-tempered of the brothers. 

While Gideon would never give him credit, James Potter was actually a staunch supporter of this belief and was often at Fabian’s side when he implored Dumbledore to act. Fabian sometimes wondered if that was the reason he liked James when he should hate his guts like his brother and sister, but there was always a running joke that Fabian was adopted since he was far too logical for a Prewett.

“We need to go,” said Fabian. “The meeting is about to start.”

“Not waiting on your boyfriend, eh?” Gideon smirked.

Fabian ignored his brother and began packing for the short trip. ‘Where  _ is  _ James?’ he thought to himself.

“I’ll send a patronus telling him to meet us there. “ Fabian handed a pouch to Gideon. “Remember, remain inconspicuous.”

“That’d be a lot easier with Potter’s cloak. Whole reason the berk was coming on this one,” Gideon said, and Fabian could not argue the point.

“Nevertheless, we have our orders. Let’s get going.”

The two men trudged through a dense forest, pushing branches and twigs out of their path without the use of magic. The mission itself was not dangerous, but Dumbledore had always warned that magic was difficult to keep hidden, as one never knew who was watching. This was a lesson Gideon failed to heed many times, and if not for his brother being present, he would have simply just apparated to the inn where the meeting was taking place. 

It was surprisingly warm this October night, but Fabian still insisted on wearing his billowing cloak. He loved that cloak, even as it kept getting caught on tree branches while they trudged through the forest. Gideon snickered each and every time. As for himself, he wore a simple pair of Muggle trousers and a jumper. Perhaps that’s why he liked Arthur so much as they were both fascinated by Muggle culture. 

Eventually, the pair made it out of the forest and came upon Blockley. It was quiet save for the bark of a stray dog. Fabian led them towards the destination, a nondescript inn called The Cheeky Stag.

“What’s plan?” Gideon asked.

“You must be joking,” replied Fabian.

“Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t.” Gideon surveyed the outside of the inn. “You sure this is a wizarding pub? Smack in the middle of a Muggle village doesn’t seem very hidden.”

“Perhaps that’s the idea. Hide in the open. Besides, look at the sign hanging out front.”

Fabian nodded to a wooden sign hanging over the entrance of the door. It showed a stag holding a pint of ale, but in the corner was a small stool with a wizard’s hat perched atop it. 

“Nice nod to Hogwarts.” Gideon said. “You think we could just grab a seat at the bar?”

“First, put on your robes. I doubt the wizards in here will take kindly to a man in jeans.”

The brothers walked confidently into the pub and made a beeline for the bar. Gideon side-eyed the gathering of scruffy-looking wizards and a few witches in the back. They matched the vibe of the place quite nicely. This pub was not for respectable wizards, the pair quickly surmised. It was dirty, for one. It immediately reminded Fabian of the times he was forced to enter the Hog’s Head, usually to drag Gideon out. 

The bartender was a gruff-looking man who seemed put out to have to actually tend the bar. His face was covered in scars, most likely earned from years of dealing with rowdy drunks. Gideon ordered two firewhiskeys.

“And another for our friend when he arrives,” added Fabian, earning a scowl from his brother.

“Busy night for a Tuesday?” Gideon asked the bartender, who merely grunted and walked to the other end of the bar. “Off to a rousing start,” Gideon said quietly to Fabian, who choked on his drink trying to hold his laughter.

“Damn you,” Fabian said, wiping the drink from his robes. He turned his back to the bar and began taking stock of the clientele. He raised his eyebrows upon seeing a few familiar faces.

“Friends?” asked Gideon, sipping his firewhiskey.

“More like work acquaintances. No need to worry. They won’t recognize me.”

Gideon was about to press further when a tall wizard dressed too well for the company stood up and called for attention by stomping his cane on the wood floor.

“Greetings my fellow wizards and witches,” the tall wizard began. “What a tremendous turnout. It shows that the pure-blooded community is alive and well!” 

“Alive, but not so well by the look of them.” Gideon whispered.

“I thank you for coming tonight, and more importantly, my lord thanks you as well,” the wizard continued.For you see, we are building a movement, a movement aimed to restore honor and power to those who truly deserve it. For too long Muggles have forced us into hiding. For too long Muggleborns have been usurping the magic of true wizards and witches and for too long our Ministry has not just turned the other way, but have actually supported the infiltration of inferiors into our world.”

“And for too long has my wife turned me down for a shag” Gideon whispered, earning an elbow in his side.

“Quiet,” Fabian said.

“And my lord says ‘enough’ to that!’ In this room sit wizards and witches of purity and strength, but the Ministry has made it their mission to hold you down, to keep you from enjoying the world that belongs to you. They insist on keeping us secret and subservient to the Muggles. They allow those blood-traitors with magic in their blood to dilute it by marrying mongrels of a lesser species.” 

The speaker, his face turning tomato red, began banging his cane on the ground as if leading a marching band. The crowd sat hypnotized. “And so those with pure-blood, the mightiest of all wizards and witches, are dying out. Because our Ministry allows it. But our Lord says no more. It is time for the people in this room to take their place at the heads of the wizarding world. “

The crowd shouted in approval and Fabian gave a worried look in Gideon’s direction. 

“But we cannot simply wait for power to be given back to us. No, we must take what is rightfully ours. My lord is your lord. He wishes to bestow power upon you if you merely join him in his crusade. “

“And jest who is this fancy lord?” a rather drunk man shouted from the back.

“Why, Lord Voldemort, of course.” Several gasps rang out from the crowd.

“Be not afraid, my friends,” the tall wizard assured the crowd. “Lord Voldemort rewards those who are loyal to him and who seek to fulfill his goals. Those who oppose him will face a different outcome, however. So I ask you all: do you believe in the superiority of the pure blood that runs in your veins?”

Shouts of “aye” rang out through the pub, sending a shiver down the Prewett brothers’ spines.

“And do you believe pure-bloods deserve to lead, not follow?” More shouts of approval greeted the speaker. “And should we hide from Muggles, or rule them?” The crowd rose to their feet and cheered.

“Alright, time to go,” said Fabian. He and Gideon threw a few knuts on the bar counter and began weaving their way through the uproarious crowd. They pushed their way out of the pub and into the October night, which had turned cold.

“Voldemort just recruited about twenty followers in one small village in one night,” said Gideon.

“At this rate not even Dumbledore could stop his army.”

“We need to get word to the Order,” Fabian replied. “I think we should try to capture that man. He’s far too charismatic and likely holds a wealth of information.”

“Agreed. Send your patronus to Dumbledore. In the meantime I’ll – “ Gideon’s words were cut off as a flash of blue light punched him in the stomach, causing him to double over. Fabian was at his side in a second.

“Well, isn’t this a fortunate coincidence,” a wizard said from the shadows. Antonin Dolohov sauntered into the light of the lamppost overhead. 

Dolohov was not a tall man, but the evil within him made him one of Voldemort’s most imposing and feared soldiers. His skill laid in the cruelty and severity of his curses. Fabian quickly drew his wand and cast a quick curse at Dolohov, who deflected it with ease.

“What do you want, Dolohov?” Fabian demanded, still crouched over his brother.

“Oh, just a friendly chat,” replied Dolohov. “I was interested in what two fine wizards such as yourselves were doing near a filthy pub in the middle of England.” 

“We heard they had a good special on gillywater,” wheezed Gideon, who was slowly rising to his feet.

“We’re not looking for a fight,” said Fabian, his wand pointed between Dolohov’s eyes, “and as there are two of us and only one of you, I suggest you retreat to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

“I’m afraid your math is a bit off.” With a snap of his fingers, five more Death Eaters came out of hiding, their wands trained on the brothers.

“I’d ask what you were really doing here,” said Dolohov, “but it appears quite obvious that Dumbledore sent you on some sort of information gathering expedition. Pity he didn’t realize we have ways of knowing exactly who comes and goes from our establishments. What a shame that he will lose two of his best soldiers tonight. And your poor sister. Molly, isn’t it? What a tragedy to befall her, losing her favorite brothers.” He smiled widely, revealing crooked yellow teeth.

“Get bent, you bastard!” shouted Gideon. The Death Eaters began to circle the brothers. Thinking quickly, Fabian pointed his wand in between two Death Eaters who were trying to get behind them. “Bombardo!” he shouted, and the ground blew up under the Death Eaters feet. Fabian and Gideon took the opportunity to escape behind a large boulder. 

“Can we apparate out of here already?” Gideon yelled as spell upon spell hit the stone.

Fabian grabbed hold of Gideon, preparing for the familiar sucking sensation, but nothing happened.

“Damnit! Dolohov must’ve already cast an anti-Apparation spell. We’ll need to fight our way out.”

“How the hell are we going to do that?” Gideon asked.

“Fuck if I know,” Fabian replied, his voice cracking a bit.

Gideon peeked out behind the stone to see roughly ten Death Eaters firing. “Looks like we’re really up against it, brother,” Gideon said. “Alright, I’m going to try something rather dangerous. Cover me!” Gideon stood and began running and firing all at the same time. Fabian launched spell after spell, trying to protect his brother.

As Fabian grew tired, there was only one thing he could think of saying at that moment.

“Where the bloody hell is James?” 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

James Potter had the biggest smile plastered on his face when he received a patronus from Frank Longbottom. 

“James. Emergency meeting at headquarters. Come quick!” 

Oh, he was in for it now. James knew he had flaked on the mission with Gideon and Fabian, but he had a tremendously good reason for it. He debated for a moment pretending he missed Frank’s patronus, as he was not looking forward to the disappointed face of Albus Dumbledore. But he had shirked his Order duties, and it was time to face the music. James surmised that once Dumbledore heard his reason for not being there, all would be forgiven. But he never liked disappointing Dumbledore, even for a second.

“Go,” a calm voice told him. He turned to see Lily, positively glowing. 

“I think I need to be here with you still,” James said, placing his hand in her hair and running it through like a brush.

“Oh, don’t give me that rubbish. This is just like seventh year when you had Peeves explode the loos in the girl’s bathroom and tried to hide from Dumbledore in my dorm.”

“Yeah, I kept sliding down the stairs,” he said.

“And so we hid in the Charms room till dawn.”

“I don’t recall you complaining then.” James winked, pleased to see Lily’s blush.

“Well, that’s only because I had just started dating you. Now that we’re married…” Lily smiled and James rolled his eyes. 

“Fine, you win. I’ll go take my lumps. But you need to get back into bed.”

“Say hi to everyone for me,” Lily said as James took some floo powder in his hands.

“Love you. Order Headquarters!” he shouted before being engulfed in green flames.

James was unceremoniously dumped out of the fireplace at the aging home of Sirius Black, his best friend since first year at Hogwarts. 

He brushed some soot off of his robes before Sirius appeared at his side, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him into the kitchen.

“You missed the mission,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Word travels fast. So Gideon and Fabian just had to tattle on me to Dumbledore.”

“Not at all, in fact,” Sirius said. “I just know you wouldn’t have gone from the mission to your house and then here. That’s where you were, right?” James nodded. “As it happens, no one has head from Fabian or Gideon. They were supposed to arrive back an hour ago for debriefing.”

James had a momentary sinking feeling in his stomach, but soon his brain began rationalizing things. The mission was rather mundane so the chances of any danger were slim. Honestly, he wasn’t really sure why Dumbledore had pushed for him to go. Sirius had suggested it was a bonding mission, a way to bridge the gap between him and Gideon. James scoffed at the idea. There was no fence mending between the two as long as Molly was married to a Weasley. Fabian seemed to have some sense about him, which is why he and James could tolerate one another.

“Well, I imagine Gideon went and got drunk somewhere. Probably botched the mission, as simple as it was. Why did Dumbledore call an emergency meeting if they haven’t even arrived back?”

Sirius shrugged. “Beats me. But it better be something important. I had a date with Thompson, you know, from Hufflepuff.” Sirius gave an impish grin. “Come, they’re about to start. I hope Lily wasn’t too pissed about you leaving her alone. By my count,” he said while checking his watch, “she’s due to pop any day now”

James grabbed his arm before he could enter the kitchen. “It’s funny you should mention that because I have some news to share.” He gave a wide smile.

“Can’t wait to hear it, Prongs, but we’re late as it is.”

James released Sirius and followed him into the dining room, where the long oak table was surrounded with Order members. There were Frank and Alice Longbottom pressed close together. Mad-eye Moody was eying the room intently, but his magic eye locked onto James as soon as he entered the room. At the head of the table sat Dumbledore, still as sprightly as ever. James only wished he could look as good as Dumbledore at that age.

But tonight, he did not look good. Dumbledore had a careworn look on his face, not uncommon these days, but his eyes were especially dark tonight, the bags underneath purple. He glanced up at James and a smile appeared on his face before quickly disappearing once again.

“James,” he began, “I thought--forgive me--but you are just the man I was hoping to see. Please, sit.”

James tentatively sat at the chair farthest from Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked deep in contemplation. He wasn’t sure if this was a bad sign. The other Order members, save Moody, looked confused, unsure why they were here. 

James knew he was in trouble and quickly surmised that the best defense was a good offense.

“Look, before we begin, I just want to say I know I messed up by not going on the mission. Something pretty big came up and I just assumed since it was just recon, it would be ok if I didn’t go. I know, I should’ve sent a patronus but I was so preoccupied by this other thing that it just slipped my mind. As soon as Fabian and Gideon arrive I’ll ...“ James faltered and gritted his teeth, “personally apologize to them.”

The room was silent as all eyes gradually shifted from James to Dumbledore.

“So you were not with them?” Dumbledore asked pointedly.

“Er, no. Like I said, something really important came up. Something great, actually.” James couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.

“What exactly was so important,” asked Mad-Eye, his gruff voice dripping with hostility, “that you abandoned an Order mission, laddie?” James’ smile disappeared, replaced with a grimace.

“Alastor, please. This isn’t an interrogation.” Dumbledore rose from his seat. “The reason I called you here tonight is to regretfully inform you that Fabian and Gideon Prewett were ambushed tonight and killed. We recovered the bodies roughly an hour ago.”

James’ stomach plummeted. “But, that’s impossible. It was just recon.”

Sirius had his head in his hands while Alice quietly cried. Another Order member, Mary Studebaker, slammed her fist on the table. 

“I’ll ask the question again,” said Mad-Eye. “Why were you not there?”

“And I will remind you again, this is not an interrogation,” Dumbledore insisted. “James had nothing to do with what happened tonight.”

“Is that so? Forgive me, Albus, but the Potters have had a centuries-long feud with the Weasleys.”

“What?” James cried in anger and slammed the table with his fist. “Are you really suggesting I conspired with Death Eaters to have them killed? Are you that paranoid, old man?”

“Too crazy for his own good, I say!” shouted Sirius, rising to defend his friend.

“I wouldn’t be as good an Auror as I am if I wasn’t paranoid!” Alastor said, standing up from his chair so quickly that it fell over with a loud crash.

“Enough!” shouted Dumbledore. “There are few people I trust more than James Potter, and he and I will have a private discussion regarding exactly where he was. But suffice it to say it was a good thing he wasn’t there, as we would be burying three bodies tonight instead of two.” Dumbledore sat back in his seat, looking like a tired old man. “Alas, I fear this was my mistake. I have long suspected an enemy within our midst and tonight has indeed confirmed it. It was no accident Death Eaters ambushed the Prewett brothers.”

Moody sat down but continued to glare at James, his magical eye jerking wildly while the other one fixed on James.

At that moment there was a loud bang and Molly Weasley stormed into the dining room. Her red hair was frazzled and her eyes were puffy and read. Behind her followed Arthur Weasley, his shoulders slumped.

Molly surveyed the occupants in the room. She glared at Sirius, who feigned interest in the scenery beyond the window and avoided her eyes. Finally her eyes found their target.

“You,” she said low and in James’ direction. “You killed them.”

“Molly,” James began, “I’m sorry-“

“You abandoned them, didn’t you?” She pushed her way passed Frank and Alice, who had placed themselves in the middle of the room as a barrier. Molly stood right in front of James and pointed her finger in his face, mere centimeters from his nose. “You let them die all because of some stupid feud. My brothers, my brave brothers are dead and it’s your fault.”

“My fault?” James said, a hot flush coming over him at her accusations. “I am sorry for your loss, Weasley, but this was not on me. Yes, I was wrong to not go. But if I was there, my wife would be where you are right now and I will never feel bad for not putting her in that position,” he said, thinking of the news Lily had given him that very night. “We all knew what we were signing up for when we joined. Or at least those who made that choice did.” He stared pointedly between Molly and Arthur. “Which reminds me. How did you two even get here? Order members only.”

Arthur and Dumbledore shared a glance before turning back to the confrontation in front of them. “James, don’t say anything you might regret later here,” Dumbledore said calmly. “We have all suffered a tremendous loss tonight and are apt to say unkind things to each other in the heat of the moment.”

“No, Albus,” said Molly. “I will never regret my words. You were always an arrogant boy at school, but now I see you for what you truly are: as dark as any Death Eater.”

“Molly!” Arthur shouted, but the words were out.

Ice ran through James’s veins and an odd sort of calm settled on him. “Is that what you believe, Weasley? I’m a monster?” he asked, voice soft in the hush of the room. “Or are you just angry I didn’t die in their place?” He raised his eyebrows, glancing over to Sirius. “It’s funny that you compare me to a Death Eater when I’m the one actually fighting them while you and your husband play house. You want to blame me? Fine. Do what you must. But don’t ever compare me to those scum when you refuse to fight yourselves.” He paused for a moment, satisfaction running through him as Molly’s face reddened. She opened her mouth to speak, but James interrupted her. “Maybe your brothers would’ve been alive if you or Arthur had the guts to stand up to Voldemort. In fact, it would’ve been better if you both went on that mission instead of Gideon and Fabian. At least they were of use to the cause.”

Molly burst into tears and Arthur stood rooted to the spot in indignation at James’ comments. They were unfair, James knew, but his anger and temper blinded him, as it often did. Because this was not his fault and he had a good reason for being absent. Ironically, it would be Molly who would probably understand the most. 

Molly composed herself long enough to stop the tears from cascading down her face. She squeezed Arthur’s forearm and turned to Dumbledore.

“Thank you, Albus, for recovering their bodies. I’ll be sure to let the Order know when the funeral will be held.”

“Anything you need, just ask and it shall be done.” With one last glare at James, Molly departed. Arthur made to leave before stopping and facing James.

“Molly would never admit this, but Fabian always liked you. He would often say that in another life, the two of you could’ve been good friends,” Arthur said, his simple words an arrow to James’s heart.

Arthur walked to the fireplace and grabbed some floo powder.

“Arthur!” James called.

“Yes?”

James was about to speak when the words caught in his throat. “Nevermind,” he said instead.

Arthur departed. Alice resumed her crying and Mary and Frank ushered her out of the kitchen. Soon the room was empty save Sirius, Dumbledore, James and Moody.

“You wanted to speak in private, Professor?” James asked, though he could not meet Dumbledore’s blue eyes. Even with Dumbledore seated at the head of the table, he still loomed large over everyone in the room.

“Given what has occurred, I think perhaps we can put off that discussion for another night. I know you have guilt over tonight’s events, James. And that is normal, though I assure you this was not your fault. Go home. Be with your family. Give Lily my best and say hello to Madam Pomfrey for me.”

James’ head jerked up and Dumbledore smiled in a manner reminiscent of James’ days at Hogwarts. With that, James headed towards the fireplace. Sirius took that as his cue and retired to his bedroom, leaving Dumbledore and Moody. James gave a tentative wave and vanished in the flames.

____________________________________________________________________________________-

“Today I find myself feeling my age more than ever,” Dumbledore said.

“War does that to us,” replied Moody.

“I fear I may have been mistaken in my approach thus far, old friend. This war is starting to tear us apart. The Prewett brothers’ deaths will certainly not be the last, and I fear what world we will have left even if we are victorious.” 

“The Potters and Weasleys were at each other’s throats before Voldemort started causing a fuss, Albus.”

“But what I saw tonight was so unlike both Molly and James. This is what I truly fear.” Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh. “Alastor, what if I told you I knew of a way to defeat Voldemort? A way to remove his power and end this war?”

“I’d ask why you were holding out on us.”

“Until now it was only the eccentricities of an old man, but I fear I must trust my instincts, even if they ultimately steer me wrong. Voldemort must be defeated and I must be the one to do it. But I will need your help confirming my suspicions.” Dumbledore waved his wand and the doors to the dining room slammed shut. “Now, tell me what you know about Horcruxes.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

James emerged from the fireplace at the Potters’ cottage and dusted soot from his robes.

Lily was resting comfortably in bed when James entered. He tried not to wake her but his heavy boots betrayed him as she stirred.

“Meeting go ok?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Uh, yeah, fine,” James replied, sitting on the edge of the bed to take off his boots. Lily began rubbing his back in a circular motion, the same way she did when James was worried about an exam.

“What happened?” Something go wrong?”

“I don’t want to worry you, not now anyway. Madam Pomfrey settled into the guest room ok. She was a lifesaver tonight.”

“Tell me,” Lily demanded. “I won’t break.” 

James gave a heavy sigh. “Gideon and Fabian were killed tonight.”

Lily’s breath hitched and James was at her side in moments.

“What happened?” she asked. 

“They were ambushed by Death Eaters. Terrible. Everyone was devastated,” James said before looking away from Lily. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Moody thought I might have been in on it.”

Lily’s hand flew to her mouth. “How could he think such a thing? How could anyone think that of you?”

“Molly Weasley seemed to agree in her own way. She sort of ambushed me tonight and basically blamed me for their deaths. And I think she is right.”

Lily grabbed James’ chin firmly. “This was not your fault. You do this, you know. Blame yourself when things go wrong. Remember when Lupin nearly killed Severus? You blamed yourself for weeks over it.”

“But this was partly my fault, Lily. I missed the mission.”

“Yes, and maybe there was a chance being there could’ve saved them. But there probably was a better chance you’d be dead along with them, and the Order would be that much worse off.  _ We’d _ be so much worse off. I’m tremendously grateful you missed the mission.”

James brought her into his arms and hugged her fiercely. 

“I’ve never seen someone so mad as Molly Weasley,” he said, releasing her slightly.

“I can’t blame her,” Lily said. “She must be suffering so much.” James let Lily go and began pacing the bedroom, running his hands through his hair. 

“I may have made it worse. She was saying some truly awful things about me. Saying I was no better than a Death Eater. You know me and my temper. I just lost it. Said it was her fault since she chose not to join the Order.”

“Oh, James.” 

“Not my best moment. I admit. But she’s a Weasley and you know how we get on. I’m sorry I said it, but I meant a lot of it, Lily. The Weasleys are not fighting this war with us.”

“They have good reasons not to.”

“Bollocks! So do we! Yet we fight!” James was practically pulling at his hair now, and Lily grabbed his hands and brought them to her face. He stroked her cheeks gingerly with his thumbs.

“You’re being a bit of a hypocrite, James.” James scoffed at the notion but continued his ministrations.

“I know you’ve tried to mend the fences with them and I never held that against you, Lily. I get it. You weren’t born into this feud. But face facts, love. After tonight, the Potters and Weasleys will never be friends.”

A sudden wail interrupted them and they looked to the side of the bed. James walked over and stared lovingly into the basket near the nightstand.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” James asked, tears in his eyes.

“Just like his Dad.”

James bent down and picked up the newborn, delicately cradling it in his arms. Lily rose from the bed and joined him.

“I know there has been a lot of sadness today,” James began “but I can’t help but feel incredibly happy.”

“We’re a family.” Lily beamed.

The newborn grabbed at James’ finger and he smiled even wider. “Welcome to the world, Simon Potter.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Author’s Note: The ages of the characters and the timeline of certain events have been changed for this story**.

Harry Potter was a very lucky sixteen-year-old boy. He had a large and loving family who made sure he was never wanting, good friends, and a promising Quidditch career on the horizon. Currently, he was doing a breaststroke in the pool in the family’s summer home in the Provence region of Southern France. The day was warm and the air was calm, with just a hint of a breeze coming through the hills beyond the estate. Harry’s strokes were violent, however. The water splashed around him as though he were being chased by an Inferi who learned the breaststroke.

This was how Harry had spent the majority of his summer of his sixteenth year, desperately trying to evade an uneasiness. Harry couldn’t shake the feeling, nor truly put into words, just what exactly concerned him so much. He often felt angry with himself for even having such thoughts, as surely a boy of his fortune should not complain. Still, it nagged at him from time to time, and right now was a particularly frustrating moment to be stressed about nothing. The summer sun was idling above the horizon, resisting disappearing behind the hills.

“Harry,” a voice called. He turned to see his mother, Lily Potter, approaching. Her auburn hair was tied in a messy bun. A blue bed sheet draped across her shoulders as she carried a laundry basket out into the garden. “Dinner is on the table, and I refuse to keep setting warming charms. You’re sixteen. You should have a baguette stuffed in your mouth at all times!”

Harry rolled his eyes, and his mother smirked before hanging the clothing. Begrudgingly, he exited the pool; large drops of water exploded on the deck near his feet. He grabbed a towel and planted a kiss on his mother’s cheek. 

“Don’t soak the floor!” she called as he went inside.

The Potter summer home was modest. It was an older two story, and the once bright red brick had long since faded from the French summer sun. James had fallen in love with the green shutters, which he said made the house look like Lily. There were four medium-sized bedrooms, three acres of green land, and two functional bathrooms. James had wanted a large beachside residence, but Lily had insisted that they didn’t need the space for a summer home. and they could just as easily apparate to the beach. She had agreed to a large kitchen, complete with a massive island and two gas cookers. Harry wondered why his mum needed two cookers when she was perfectly capable of ruining a dinner in one. 

Drying the pool water from his hair, Harry moved through the kitchen and entered the dining room to find his family already finishing up with their meal. His oldest brother, Simon, was huddled with his head close to his father, as they discussed something undoubtedly Quidditch-related. Simon kept tucking his long black hair behind his ears.

His older sister, Rosalynn, was rummaging through several sheets of parchment, one of which was four feet long if it was a centimeter. Her large-rimmed glasses kept slipping down her nose. Rosalynn was the spitting image of her mother, apart from her glasses. She was tall with a lithe figure and dark red hair. But her eyes were more like James. His mother’s eyes only belonged to Harry, and they turned upon his other brother, Jack, who casually leaned back in his chair as he read a rather large book. The chair creaked and rocked further and further back until it was at the edge of toppling over before Jack brought it back. 

“’Bout time you joined us,” Simon said. “What can be so interesting about a pool that you almost miss dinner again?”

“Kind of the point of summer,” answered Jack. “You don’t have to do anything but enjoy it.” He winked at Harry, who smiled. Harry would never say this aloud, but of all his older siblings, Jack was his favorite. Something about his carefree attitude and independence appealed to him. 

Lily returned from outside and ushered Harry into his seat. At her prodding, he began shoveling food into his mouth, grimacing as he swallowed a large portion of lemon chicken.

“When does training camp start?” James asked. 

“Two weeks,” replied Simon. “The English like to get an earlier start on things than the French. Le Bleu wouldn’t start training until late September.”

“And the season cuts short in April,” James said, earning a nod from Simon.

“Probably why we haven’t made a World Cup in thirty years. No work ethics. Dad, this is going to be so much fun. Actually playing Quidditch year round, and in all sorts of conditions! Against the best in the world!” Simon pumped his fist in the air.

“You always deserved to play in the English league and would’ve been there sooner if I had any say in it.”

“Well, Charlie Weasley is a plonker. But I guess we got the last laugh on the Weasleys yet again, didn’t we?” Simon hoisted his glass and clinked it with James.

The story of how the Potter family wound up in France was connected to the Weasleys, but in truth, Dumbledore had played the largest role. After the deaths of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Dumbledore had taken the initiative against Voldemort. No one knew how he did it, but one night about a year before Rosalynn was born, Dumbledore had appeared in the British Ministry with the broken body of Voldemort. Just like that, the war was over. James and Lily were able to shift their focus to their growing family, which eventually led them to France.

“Hey, Mum?” Rosalynn said, carefully placing her quill down on the kitchen table.

“Yes, Rosie?”

“Do you think I should work for the Departmente du Creatures Magique or Loi? I can’t decide and they both have respectable offers.”

“Well, we should discuss that as a family,” Lily said, shooting a quick glance at James. Rosalynn narrowed her eyes and a scowl formed on her face.

“Why should everyone have a say?” she asked. “I was asking _your_ opinion, not these pea-brains.” She waved her hands towards the boys.

“Hey!” shouted James. “Our brains are not pea-sized. They’re melons.” This earned a snicker from the children.

“What I _mean_ ,” said Lily, “is there is something your father and I need to discuss before you make any major decisions. James?”

“Why do I have to tell them?” James whined.

“Because I have things you want,” Lily replied cheekily.

Harry made a face. “Thanks for the image, Mum.”

“It’ll happen to you one day too,” James said, reaching over the table to muss Harry’s hair.

“Yeah, right,” said Simon. “Harry wouldn’t know what to do with a girl if she fell right on top of him.”

Harry threw a roll, which Simon easily deflected.

“Tut tut, younger brother. Remember who the professional Beater is,” Simon whisked a roll back in Harry direction. Harry snatched it out of the air with ease.

“And remember who the next captain of the Beauxbaton Quidditch team is, older brother.” Harry tore a piece of the roll and stuffed it in his mouth.

The Potters were notoriously great Quidditch players, apart from Lily. James first noticed when Simon was six; he was fond of blasting acorns at Jack with a skinny tree branch and hit him with surprising accuracy. Since they were still in England at the time, James enrolled Simon, and later Jack and Rosalynn, in pre-Hogwarts Quidditch camps. By the time Simon was in his second year at Hogwarts, he was already the best Beater in school. Which is how the Potters found themselves in France.

“As we were saying,” said Lily, “we have a big announcement to make.”

“That’s right,” James said. “Your mother has decided to sell her apothecary business and take up the Potions position at Hogwarts.” James looked around the table at the stunned faces, but decided it was best to get the whole announcement over with -- like ripping off a plaster. He cleared his throat in the rare silence before continuing. “ _And_ I’ve decided to accept a position within the British Ministry. With Simon finally landing a spot in the British Quidditch League, we decided that it makes sense to move back to England.”

His announcement was met with blank stares.

“Does anyone have anything to say?” asked Lily, her eyes furtively scanning the faces of her children. Slowly, a smile grew on Rosalynn’s face.

“Well, that’s great news for you lot!” said Rosalynn. 

“Agreed,” said Jack, resuming his reclining. “As you said, it makes sense. We all know how much you and Dad miss England.”

“Any thought of coming with us, Jack?” asked Lily, her eyes wide with hope.

“Nah, don’t see the point. I got my job and friends here. Besides, French girls are more fun.” He gave a wink to Simon, who elbowed him fiercely in the ribs. Lily’s face fell. 

“Are you really going to sell your store?” asked Rosalynn.

“Yes, it was a tough decision, but I always had a soft spot for Hogwarts. Many great memories.” Lily looked longingly at James, who wore a cheeky grin.

“Including a few specific broom cupboards,” he said, earning a playful slap from Lily and groans from Simon.

“Well, what if you didn’t sell?” asked Rosalynn, who had excitedly shoved her stack of parchment to the side and leaned even further across the table. “What if I ran the business?”

“And where is this coming from?” said Lily. “You’ve never seemed remotely interested in working in my shop, even those summers where I practically had to force you.”

“That was when you had me stocking shelves,” she retorted. “I’ve always liked Potions, Mum. You know how well I did on my exams in the subject.”

“What about working for the Ministry? You were top of your class, Rosalynn.” This was a fair point. Rosalynn had always been an excellent student and was obsessed with her studies. She even had convinced her parents to allow her to stay at Hogwarts until her fifth year, despite the presence of Fred and George Weasley. But when her favorite Charms professor suddenly retired, Rosalynn decided there was no reason to stay and transferred to Beauxbaton. 

“I think there’s a reason I can’t decide on all of these offers,” Rosalynn said, her shoulders sagging. “My heart just isn’t in it. I think I can do really well working for you.”

Lily pondered the idea for a moment. It sounded like her daughter had been harboring this idea for a while now. She knew she’d excel and would probably do better at running the business than Lily herself. And then a thought struck her.

“No,” Lily said. Rosalynn’s face looked crushed. “I will not keep the business open for you to run as my employee. I simply will not have the time to devote to it.”

“I understand.” replied Rosalynn, her fingers twirling her hair. “It was a crazy idea anyway.”

“I’m still going to sell the business,” Lily said. “How does one franc sound?”

Rosalynn’s mouth fell open and her fingers stopped. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you run the business as your own? Keep it in the family.” 

“You must be joking.” Rosalynn was now practically splayed over the dining room table, her parchment pooled around her feet.

“It does make sense, Rosie,” James added. “You’ve been working at the shop for years; you’re a Potions whiz like your mum, and you have a knack for numbers. And your mum and I have discussed too many times moving the shop to England, or perhaps opening a few branches even. Maybe you could expand to Hogsmeade.”

Rosalynn couldn’t take it anymore; she burst out of her seat to hug Lily and James. 

“Thank you! Thank You! Thank you!” Rosalynn danced around the table and her parents beamed and hugged each other.

With that, dinner progressed to dessert and a rousing discussion on where they would all live, where Rosalynn would move the shop, and where Simon could find the best witches. The answers to the first two questions were Hogsmeade --while the answer to the third was decidedly _not_ Hogsmeade. They could all be excused for not noticing that Harry hadn’t uttered a single word the entire time. It was only when James noticed Harry’s empty chair that both he and Lily realized something was amiss.

Harry quietly made his way from the kitchen to his room upstairs, being careful not to miss the third step, which tended to emit a loud groan. This was a fact both Simon and Jack had learned the hard way after inviting a couple of girls back from a beach party the summer before last. Rosalynn was a much quicker learner.

In most ways, Harry’s bedroom was fairly typical for a teenage boy. There were posters of Quidditch stars adorning almost every square inch, both French and British. There was even one of the Holyhead Harpies, the all-women team from the English league and Harry’s favorite team, though he would never tell Simon that. His four-post bed was saturated in a Parisian blue, and in the corner a cage held his white snowy owl, Hedwig. His mother had found her in a shop in the magical section of London known as Diagon Alley during one of her rare trips home. Hedwig was as good a friend as Harry could hope. Harry opened her cage and stroked the side of her face. 

This was not to say Harry had no other friends. It would be difficult to be starting Seeker and a Potter without making friends. It was just that Harry never felt truly close to any of them. As he gazed at several family photos arranged on his dresser, his eyes found his favorite picture. He was ten and being heaved into the pool by his father. This was the picture he always found himself staring at the longest. He was so carefree. There was no Quidditch to worry about, no bad first dates he was guilted into attending, no parents to disappoint, no crowds of students expecting greatness. Just him and his dad. He grabbed the frame and brought it to his bed.

Harry enjoyed France. He enjoyed Beauxbaton and he enjoyed Quidditch. But he didn’t _love_ any of it. Considering who his father was and who his brother was, he should at least love Quidditch. Harry was certainly good enough at it. Some thought he was better than Simon, despite his protestations that they played two completely different positions and such comparisons were unfair. Truthfully, he wished he wasn’t so good. When you’re really good at something, people have certain expectations. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Harry heard his dad call out from behind the closed door. He dropped the picture on the bed and opened it. 

“Can I come in?” James asked, and Harry opened the door wider. He walked over to Hedwig’s cage, put some pellets in his bowl, and gave the white owl a tender pat.

“Noticed you skipped out on us,” James said as he entered the room.

“Sorry. I was just tired.” Harry closed the cage and leaned against the wall.

James took a seat on Harry’s bed. He picked up the photo. 

“This was a great day,” James reflected, his thumb stroking the frame. 

Harry grabbed the picture from his father. “It was a fun day, I suppose.” He placed it back on the nightstand. 

“Your mum and I realized we never asked you what you think about all of this. It’s a big change, Harry. It’s ok to be worried.”

“I’m not worried,” Harry said, his eyes darting to the ceiling. “I mean, nothing really changes for me. Everyone else, sure. But I’d still be going to school in France, and I was already thinking about taking that trip we talked about next summer after school ends. So nothing really changes.”

“True. Nothing has to change. If you don’t want it to, that is.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked.

“Doesn’t mean anything. Your Mum and I thought it would be nice for you to come to Hogwarts. Spend some quality time together, try something new and different. But then again, you can stay at school, keep things the same. No real risk in that.” James laid back on the bed, placing his hands behind his head and crossing his legs. Harry smirked and did the same, except he laid in the opposite direction. They had played this game for years.

“Why risk it?” Harry asked, playfully nudging his dad in the head with his feet. “I’ll be made captain this year, most likely. And all my friends want to see me back.”

“Makes plenty of sense. Another nice, perfectly fine year at Beauxbaton.” James angled his feet to Harry’s side and gradually began pushing him towards the edge of the bed. “Did I ever tell you about Hogwarts?”

“Only every other day,” Harry said, pressing his feet into James’ back as he tried to gain the edge. 

“Fair. But did I ever tell you I almost gave up on your mum going with me?” 

Harry’s eyes grew a bit wide. “You almost didn’t date mum? But you were after her for years!”

“Well, you know that part of the story. The part where I was a right git for most of my schooling. Just ask Sirius. Actually, don’t ask him. Yes, definitely don’t ask Sirius about our time at Hogwarts. Anyway, I was basically coasting through school, slacking off and just sort of… _existing_. Your mum was like this scary other life I could have. But I realized if I wanted that experience, I would need to change a lot about myself.” James had now gotten Harry to the very last inch of the bed, and one more big push with his feet would send him over. “Around that time, I was going with this girl in Ravenclaw. Nice girl, but didn’t really challenge me. She was pleasant and safe. And right around the middle of sixth year, she asked me to get serious. I thought about it. It was the easier choice. Things with her were nice. Nice and easy. It was that moment when I realized I had a big choice in front of me. Your mum was the riskier option. Even trying to make myself worthy of her would be a tremendous challenge, and it could’ve been for nothing. But I knew if it worked out, life with her would be tremendous.”

With a final push, James forced Harry off the bed and sent him plummeting to the hardwood floor below. Harry landed with a loud thud. He looked up at his dad, who was now leaning over the bed and grinning down at his son. Harry responded with a two-finger salute.

“I’m not nearly as dense as I appear,” James continued. “I like to think I know my son pretty well. The biggest change I ever made was for your mother, but the second biggest change was for your brother Simon when we moved to France. I still think it was the right thing for everyone, but sometimes I wonder if it was the best fit for you.”

James hoisted himself off the bed and onto his feet. He walked around and crouched in front of Harry. “I won’t make any decisions for you, Harry. You’re seventeen in two months, and it’s time for you to take more control of your life. But I think a change might be just the thing for you.”

James left Harry and headed downstairs to where Lily was putting away dishes, her wand flickering back and forth. He nestled behind her, his nose rubbing against her neck, and Lily leaned into his touch.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“He’s a smart kid,” James said, holding her around her waist. “He’ll make the right choice.”

“For him or you? You could never be too far away from him.”

“Probably because he’s the youngest.” His hands had moved from her shoulders down to her waist.

James could not see Lily frown, but soon the sound of feet clamoring interrupted their moment. Harry entered the kitchen and grabbed a chair. 

“Mum. Dad,” he began, “I was thinking and wondering if it would be possible for me to go to Hogwarts for my sixth year.”

James could barely suppress his smile as Lily took a seat next to Harry and placed an arm over his shoulder.

“Is that what you want?” she asked, stroking his back. “Think about it. You’d be leaving your friends and your team. It’s difficult to start so late at a new school where you won’t know anybody. And you’ll have to deal with your own mum as a professor.” She winked at him and he smiled.

“Yeah, as awful as having you for a teacher might be, I’m thinking it’s time for a change. France just wouldn’t be the same without you both.”

“There will be many witches heartbroken by the news,” James quipped, ruffling Harry’s messy hair.

“Yeah, right,” Harry said, blushing. Lily simply smiled at her youngest son. He would never understand how handsome he was. 

“I think this is a good choice,” James said. “Besides, it’s time the Potters returned to their rightful place at Hogwarts. And from what I’ve heard, a certain Quidditch team needs a Seeker. They haven’t won the Cup in years, and I think we know why. Blasted Weasleys ruining the reputation of the finest house in school for years now. But not any longer!”

Harry’s face fell and Lily hugged him a bit tighter. “But Dad. I don’t even know if I’ll be good enough to make the team, let alone if I even--“

“Nonsense, you’re a Potter!” James interrupted. “And if you want to play in the English league, Hogwarts offers the best pipeline. Harry, this will wind up being the best decision you ever made.”

James continued to talk, his arms gesturing wildly, while Lily kept trying to calm him down. Harry pretended to be excited, and a part of him still was. But another part of him felt like this momentous choice of his was not solely his. And for the first time, Harry began wondering if he hadn’t just made a tremendous mistake. 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

King’s Cross was by far the busiest place Harry had ever seen. Throngs of people hurried from one platform to the next, talking loudly on what Rosalynn had once explained to Harry as mobile phones. Harry steadied his cart which carried his large trunk, racing broom, and Hedwig’s cage. Several travelers gave the owl a second and third glance, and Harry considered throwing a cloak over cage.

Lily’s hand pressed against his back, ushering him forward. James gabbed animatedly, pointing out various landmarks and reminders of his past trips. Harry merely nodded as James rattled on about the time he and Remus tricked Sirius into entering a compartment filled with Slytherin girls. 

“Mum, why didn’t we just take the floo?” Harry asked.

“It’s a tradition,” she said, “that students take the Hogwarts Express to school, even if it proves a terrible inconvenience. Besides, I made some of my best friends on that train. Maybe it will happen to you, too.”

“And maybe the train will derail,” Harry said quietly, but James snickered nonetheless. 

“James, do you remember which way we go to get to Platform 9 ¾?” Lily asked.

“Yeah, I think it is two lefts, a right, and then another left, and then three more lefts.”

“Oh, never mind, there it is,” Lily said. Harry looked upon a solid brick wall dividing Platforms 9 and 10, and for a moment wondered if his mother had gone mental. But then a family ran headfirst towards the wall, only to be fully absorbed into it. Harry simply shrugged at the image. He often wondered in such moments if he should feel greater wonder at things that would endlessly fascinate Muggles. Harry surmised that it was one of the many benefits to being Muggleborn as he nonchalantly followed his parents through the barrier, he and the cart disappearing in front of thousands of Muggles who failed to notice. 

Despite his casual attitude towards magic, even Harry had to admit that Platform 9 ¾ was a marvel. The flurry of carts, kids, parents, and pets created a buzz he had never experienced while attending Beauxbaton. There, the students simply arrived at the castle and took ferries over the river. The whole process was rather calm and orderly. But the scene in front of him was mayhem, and Harry loved it. Children were shouting from the windows for their pocket money to purchase sweets. A frog croaked in front of an elderly witch, who casually levitated it towards a plump-looking boy whose cheeks flushed as he headed on the train. 

“Feels like home, doesn’t it Lils?” James reminisced. 

“I remember our first kiss of seventh year right by that post,” Lily said, a dreamy look in her eyes. Harry bit back a remark and instead took in the steam-engine train. It was a glorious red, waxed and shiny. A steady billow of smoke emanated from the front, which Harry swore changed color from red to green, then yellow and finally blue, before repeating. The roof was emerald slatted and flat. Simply put, it was magical.

Harry looked around, dazed, until his father shook his shoulders and motioned for him to grab the other end of the trunk. Together, the Potter men lugged the trunk onboard and into an empty compartment. Lily followed with Hedwig. 

“All right, Harry?” James asked.

“Yeah, I think I am,” he replied, his eyes scanning the rich red seats and green-striped walls. The compartment window was rather large and faced a wall of very old brick.

“Now, your mother and I will be floo-ing to school to help her get settled in,” said James, shoving Harry’s broom on top of the trunk. “I wish I could greet you in Hogsmeade, but the Ministry needs me for something.”

“What do they need you for already?” Harry asked. “I thought you weren’t starting for another week.”

“Special assignment. Top secret. I wish I could tell you, but you’ll find out soon enough. In fact, I’ll have to make sure your mum gets a picture of your face.” James smiled knowingly at Harry, who looked to his mother for a clue. Unfortunately, she was impassive as a rock.

“Fine, have your secrets,” Harry said, a grin on his face. “I have mine too.”

“Oh yeah? What secrets could you have?” Lily asked.

“Why don’t you ask Chantel Chirac?” Harry said, subtly crossing his fingers behind his back so only James could see.

“I most certainly will!” Lily said, her voice rising unnaturally high. “Well, I’ll see you at school in a few hours.” She gave him a big hug and kiss on the cheek before departing.

“You never mentioned a Chantel Chirac,” James said.

“I assume there is a Chantel Chirac somewhere,” Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Oh, I’m going to miss you.” James gave Harry a huge hug. “Now, let me know as soon as they post Quidditch tryouts.”

“Uh, sure Dad.”

James’ face became very serious and he stared intently at Harry.

“I expect big things from you at Hogwarts,” he said. “Not because I expect you to live up to me or any of your siblings, but because you’re special. And Hogwarts is a special school. Professor Dumbledore is there, remember. He’ll be a great source of guidance. Use him. Let him help you reach your potential, and I’m sure you’ll surpass all of us.”

James pulled Harry into another bone-crushing hug, making Harry quite uncomfortable. The speech was nothing new. Harry didn’t think he was all that special, but his father did, which meant he couldn’t let him down. So he practiced Quidditch as long as the sun shone. He studied hard to get the right grades, and he always behaved in a manner worthy of his dad’s respect. Especially if that meant pulling off the occasional prank. Harry enjoyed all of these things, but he was also excited to create a new identity at Hogwarts, one not based on expectations. He would play Quidditch at Hogwarts because he enjoyed it, not because of a legacy of excellence he was expected to uphold. Harry was determined to make the most out of his new school. 

“Come help me with the rest of your stuff,” James said, and Harry followed him out of the compartment and back onto the platform. No sooner had he stepped off the train than he slammed into a ball of energy in the form of a petite redheaded girl. Both of them fell backwards on their behinds.

“Oh! Sorry,” the girl exclaimed, rising to her feet and rubbing her backside. Harry dusted himself off and took in the girl who had knocked him off his feet. She was small, barely above five feet, and she had vibrant orange hair. A few freckles scattered her nose and her brown eyes looked apologetic and sincere. Harry found her breathtaking. 

“No, my fault,” he assured her.

“Well, don’t see how that’s possible, but I’m happy to take the apology.” She gave him a once over. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, transfer from Beauxbaton.”

“Really? You don’t sound French. I have a sister-in-law who’s French. Her name is Fleur, but I call her Phlegm.”

Harry laughed. “Why Phlegm?”

“If you met her, you wouldn’t need to ask.” 

“I guess that makes me the lucky one,” Harry said. They stared at each other for what felt like ages and the girl gave a shy smile.

“So why no haughty French accent?”.

“My parents are both English, and I guess I just picked up theirs. Besides, the French are too whiny. I prefer a nice posh British accent.”

She snickered. 

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Ginny, Ginny--“

“-- _Weasley_ ,” James’ voice interrupted. Both Harry and Ginny turned to him, but James was not speaking to Ginny. Rather, he was looking menacingly at the stout red-haired woman who must have been Ginny’s mother, Molly, and her entire family. 

Beside Molly stood a thin man with a few wisps of red hair crossing his scalp, his face creased with worry. He tentatively put his arm on Molly’s shoulders, rubbing them gently, and Harry surmised this was Molly’s husband, Arthur. Behind them stood the famous Weasley boys. Harry knew the handsome one as Bill Weasley, his long hair tied in a ponytail and blue eyes boring into James. The two identical stocky boys Harry recognized as Fred and George, who he remembered his sister often complaining about. Finally, in the back there stood a very tall, lanky boy with a long nose and more freckles on his body than there was sand on a beach. Harry could not recall his name. They all had their arms crossed and fists tensed. 

“What are you doing here, Potter?” said Bill, speaking for his family. Arthur shot him a look, which he ignored.

“Dropping my son off at school. Where he should’ve been all along.”

“What, France got sick of the Potters?” said one of the twins, who Harry could not tell apart “Can’t blame them. The stench can get overwhelming.”

Silently, Harry noticed the other twin pass something to his brother. “Boys, that’s enough,” said Molly. 

She approached James. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’ll go wherever I please. England isn’t yours, no matter how many kids you have.”

Molly moved for her wand, but Arthur intercepted. Lily arrived seemingly out of nowhere and put herself between the two families. A small crowd had begun to gather around the commotion on the platform.

“Please,” she addressed Molly. “We’re just here to drop off our son. No one is trying for a fight.”

“She’s right,” Arthur added, earning a glare from Molly. “Let’s all just go our separate ways.”

The families stared at each other in heated silence before James turned on his back. Molly followed a moment later. Harry saw his mum give a sad smile to Arthur before they both left as well, leaving only Harry and Ginny.

“So you’re a Potter?” she said coolly.

“And you’re a Weasley,” he replied.

“Then you better watch your back. This school has been fine without Potter scum. Don’t go mucking it up.”

“Muck up Hogwarts?” Harry said. “If anything, I’m here to restore some respect to the school. From what I hear, Gryffindor could do with some Potter talent. Might actually win a Quidditch cup for a change.”

“Ha!” Ginny said. “Like you’d wind up in Gryffindor. Even Slytherin would be too good for a Potter. No, Slytherin makes sense for you.”

At that moment, Molly called out. “Ginny, get away from him! Come join your brother.”

Ginny gave him a two-finger salute before disappearing onto the train. Harry drew out a long breath, relieved that wands had not been drawn. Recovering himself, Harry gave one last hug to his Mum and Dad. He hopped back on the train and settled into his empty compartment. 

He had never truly met a Weasley before, but he instinctively hated them. It was simply in his blood, as his father often reminded him. But the confrontation unnerved him. Harry was used to being around people who liked him. His mind returned to his confrontation with Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys. He honestly had forgotten there would be Weasleys at Hogwarts. Harry’s mood soured further. James and his siblings were sure to tell him as many awful things as they could about the Weasleys. Of course, there was the incident with Charlie and Simon. But even sweet Rosalynn had some foul run ins with the Weasley twins, including one such incident just last week in Diagon Alley as she was scouting a possible second business location. The feud simmered while the Potters and Weasleys were separated by a body of water. But with the Potters back in the U.K., Harry felt things were poised to explode once again.

There was a knock on the compartment door and Harry looked up to see a familiar and welcome face slide it open.

“I thought that was you,” said Neville, the boy with the toad, as he entered the compartment. 

“Neville! Finally, a familiar face.” The pair hugged awkwardly before taking seats opposite one another. Harry and Neville had been childhood friends until Harry moved away, but they still saw each other during winter and summer breaks when Neville would come to France. 

“What are you doing here?” Neville asked.

“I figured from all the times you came to France it was time to return the favor.” said Harry. “Also, my mum took up the Potions position and I decided I wanted to stay close to family.

“So you’re going to be a sixth year, right?” 

Harry nodded. 

“Ah,” said Neville. “I’m starting my seventh and last. Bit of a shame we won’t be in the same classes, but hopefully the same House?”

“If I don’t want to get disowned, Gryffindor it shall be. But suddenly I’m not feeling too chuffed about it.”

“Oh!” Neville exclaimed as a look of realization crossed his face. “They honestly aren’t a bad lot. Ron and me get on pretty well, and Fred and George were a riot before they left to start the joke shop. And Ginny-“

“Don’t start on her,” said Harry sharply. “I had the misfortune of meeting that one already. Damn near ran me over.”

Neville chuckled. “Yeah, Ginny can be like that. But she’s amazing. Everyone loves her.”

“Not everyone. How can you be friends with those tossers, Neville?”

“We don’t all have some ridiculous feud with them like you do. They’re really all right, I swear, if you give them a chance.”

“Won’t happen,” said Harry, crossing his arms. “Look, I get you’re friends with them. But I’m not going to play nice. However, so long as they stay out of my way, we should be fine.”

“I suppose that’s all I can hope for. So I hear Rosalynn is in England too?”

“Yeah, she is opening up an apothecary in Diagon Alley. It’s crazy how she just took over the business a few months ago and is already expanding. She wrote me that she might even look into space at Hogsmeade. ”

“Interesting. I’m trying to get my NEWTS in Herbology. Potions was never for me. Maybe I should stop by, though, show her some of the fungi I’ve been working with.”

“That might be a good idea,” said Harry.

“I guess if she just moved here, she isn’t dating some bloke yet, right?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Er, not that I know of.”

“Ah, ok.” Neville blushed and immediately found something outside the moving train to focus on. The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence for the next hour. Harry took notice of the lush English countryside, the way the farmland broke into neat square quarters. Soon he found himself drifting off.

“There you are, Neville!” shouted a boy’s voice, and Harry was roused from his slumber to take inf Ron Weasley entering his compartment with two other boys on his tail. One boy was dark-skinned and almost as tall as Ron. The other was smaller but thicker, with sandy hair and a smattering of freckles. 

“Hey, Ron. Dean. Seamus. You all meet Harry Potter?” said Neville nervously.

“Yeah I met him,” said Ron, a smirk on his face. “My little sister knocked the plonker on his arse.” This earned a laugh from Dean and Seamus.

“It wasn’t her so much the smell that did it,” Harry retorted.

In a flash, Ron was in Harry’s face, a wand pointed at his temple. “You stay away from her and me, Potter. My mum told me about you. Think you’re Merlin’s gift to the world. You’re just some fancy little rich kid. My money’s on you falling in with Malfoy and his lot in Slytherin.”

Dean turned to Neville. “Why you hanging around him, anyway, Nev?”

“Neville and I are friends,” answered Harry as if such a simple explanation would placate Weasley and the others.

“Whatever,” said Ron. “Come join us in my compartment when you’re done here.” With that, the trio disappeared. 

“Friendly bunch.” Harry smirked. Neville looked antsy. Harry gave an exaggerated sigh. “Go on. I’m sure you want to catch up on how many jumpersRon’s Mum knit over the summer.”

“I’ll meet up with you at the Welcoming Feast?” Neville asked.

“Sounds like a plan, mate. Good to see you.” 

Neville departed with a wave and Harry once again found himself all alone. The trolley witch came by and he partook in an assortment of sweets, bemoaning the lack of delicious French pastries he was accustomed to. Soon, the sun had set and a dark blue hue overtook the countryside. Harry surmised they were in Scotland by this point and would be approaching Hogwarts soon. 

The train began to slow and a bushy-haired girl popped her head in.

“You’re not dressed yet?” she asked incredulously.

Harry looked down at his clothing. “Er, I’m not?”

“You need to put on your school robes, and soon. The train is about to arrive.” The girl gave Harry another once-over and scurried away --most likely, Harry reckoned, to harass other students.

Nonetheless, Harry did as he was instructed and changed into his robes. The train pulled into Hogsmeade and students poured out. Harry followed the traffic, unsure of where to go. It was at that moment he noticed a rather large man with a great beard.

“Hagrid!” he called and ran up to him. Hagrid saw Harry and gave him a ferocious hug. Hagrid and his parents were great friends, and James always made sure to visit when he was in England for business. On his part, Hagrid would make it a point to stop in the south of France every summer. Harry and Hagrid had a tradition of escaping to the French beaches. To Harry, there was no sight funnier than Hagrid in swim trunks. 

“I heard you were comin’ here!” he said. “Whadya think of Hogwarts?”

Harry hadn’t actually taken the time to gaze upon the vast castle, but now that he did, he had to admit he was impressed. The castle was tall and imposing, with several spires piercing the sky. It was not pretty like the manor at Beauxbaton, but it was beautiful all the same.

“It’s nice,” Harry said noncommittally.

“Wait till ye get inside,” Hagrid replied. “It’ll blow yer mind. Specially the Gryffindor common room.”

“ _If_ I get sorted there, you mean.”

“Nonsense. You’re a Potter!” 

A tall, stern looking women in a tartan robe and pointed hat approached Hagrid and Harry.

“Rubeus, you are needed at the docks to escort the first years.”

“Right, Professor.” He turned to Harry. “We’ll I’m off. I’ll see you at the feast, Harry.”

Hagrid left, and Harry was suddenly quite uncomfortable in the presence of the stern professor.

“I’m, uh, Harry. I’m new here.”

She peered down and twitched her nose. “Yes, I am aware of who you are Mr. Potter. My name is Professor McGonagall. Your mother and I have spoken of your arrival. I hope for your sake there is more of her in you than your father.” 

“Mostly the eyes, unfortunately. Ma’am.”

“We shall see,” McGonagall said. “For the time being, you are in a unique position. Traditionally, students have not entered Hogwarts past their eleventh birthday and thus we have a quandary. You are a new student, yet it does not seem appropriate for you to be amongst far smaller children waiting to be sorted. It could be quite the spectacle. On the other hand, being sorted in front of your classmates is a time-honored tradition of which I would never seek to deprive any student. So, Mr. Potter, would you prefer to be sorted in the Great Hall? Or, if you wish, we can head to the Headmaster’s office and conduct the sorting away from prying eyes.

The words were barely past McGonagall’s lips before Harry shouted, “The Headmaster’s office. Please.”

McGonagall quirked her eyebrows and pressed her lips pressed together. “Interesting choice. There may be hope for you yet. Now, come along. I have things to do and won’t have you dawdling.”

Harry ran after the surprisingly quick professor as they made their way through the castle. Harry barely had time to take in the sights before him but couldn’t help notice the portraits covering the castle walls. Most portraits were alive with activity, waiting to welcome the new and returning students. Harry noticed a few older portraits still dozing, however. 

Before he realized it, Professor McGonagall had stopped in front of two stone gargoyles. 

“Junior Mint!” she said, and a stone door jutted out and to the side, revealing a spiral staircase. McGonagall ushered Harry up the winding stairs, the echo of his steps reverberating upwards. Eventually, they reached another door. McGonagall tapped three times and the door slid open. 

Harry was bombarded with every sort of magical object one could even think of. Snitches buzzed around the room. A Remembral glowed red on Dumbledore’s desk. Something was spinning rapidly behind it. And perched on a stand was the most beautiful bird Harry had ever seen. Its red and orange feathers shimmered against the moonlight peeking through a small slit of a window. Instinctively, Harry moved towards the bird, his hand outstretched. The bird trilled and spread its wings, welcoming Harry in. Harry’s fingertips moved to mere inches from the bird. 

“Ah, I had wondered if Fawkes would take to you,” a voice said from the entrance, startling Harry and causing him to jump back. Harry turned to find an old man with a long grey beard staring at him. His blue eyes were piercing and clashed starkly with his plum robes, which fell below his feet and scraped the floor as he walked forward. 

“His name is Fawkes, and he is a Phoenix. And one of my dearest friends.” The old wizard stroked Fawkes and smiled. “My name is Albus Dumbledore. You must be Harry Potter.” 

Harry could only manage a meek nod. 

“Professor McGonagall tells me you wish to be sorted in private?”

“Er, yeah.” Harry immediately felt stupid in the presence of such a wizard. Dumbledore ushered Harry into a chair and thrust a tin bin filled with toffee in front of him.

“The mint-flavored are particularly good.” 

Harry accepted the toffee and popped it into his mouth, grateful for an excuse not to say something stupid.

“I must admit, when I heard the Potters were moving back to England, I was a bit more excited than I should have been. One must not play favorites of course, but James and Lily had always held a part of my heart, and your siblings… let’s just say they kept me young. It will be nice to have a Potter at Hogwarts again.”

Harry could only nod his head as he swallowed the last of the toffee. 

“Then again,” Dumbledore continued, “I can’t say I look forward to the Potter/Weasley rivalry renewing. We haven’t had any excessive vomiting or explosions in the Gryffindor common room for some time now, and I hope to keep it that way.”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry. Truthfully Harry was not worried about being the source of chaos. He never had his older brothers’ penchant for pranks or revenge, nor the smarts of his sister, to even come up with anything noteworthy. But he knew with two Weasleys still at school and an army of friends behind them, he would have to watch his back. So long as he wasn’t placed in Gryffindor, he should be ok. Even if that meant disappointing his dad. 

“Now, then. I’m sure you wish to get to the feast and meet your new friends.” Dumbledore wordlessly summoned a floppy pointed hat from a nearby stool. “This is the Sorting Hat and it does exactly what it says. It sorts you into one of four Houses. I assume you are fully aware of the Houses and their histories?” 

Harry nodded. 

“Very well.”

Dumbledore placed the wool hat on top of Harry’s head. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but then a voice entered his head.

“Another Potter?” the Hat said. “I thought I was done with you lot! Didn’t want to be paraded in front of the school, I take it?”

“Not particularly, no,” Harry said, feeling stupid talking to a hat.

“Interesting. Well, every Potter has been placed in Gryffindor since the beginning of their first arrival at Hogwarts. But I can sense you are torn. Not the first Potter to have reservations. Why, your older brother Jack felt he was more a Hufflepuff and Rosalynn was sure she was a Ravenclaw. Of course, I know the true reason for their hesitations, and yours. But it’s like I told them: You’ll do great things in Gryffindor, and you’ll be better for it. Even if you are already quite sick of the color red. So I’m sorry, dear boy, but my answer must be “GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry frowned. How did the hat know what he was thinking? And why did he still put him in the house full of Weasleys? Surely that would be a recipe for disaster.

Dumbledore, too, looked on with a bit of concern etched on his face, but quickly recovered with a brilliant smile.

“Excellent!” he said. “Now, I must be terribly rude and rush you out of my office so that I can prepare for the feast. Professor McGonagall is waiting outside this office to escort you to the Great Hall.”

Before Harry knew it, McGonagall was leading him past several rather hostile paintings and into the Great Hall. At the vast doors to the hall, McGonagall stopped Harry.

“Mr. Potter, while I am quite pleased that you will be joining Gryffindor, I must warn you that any tomfoolery or hostilities committed against Ron or Ginny Weasley will not be tolerated. Am I clear?”

Harry felt a sudden swell of anger boil up. “ _I’m_ not the one you need to worry about, Professor. I believe you were here when my brother was forced out of this school by a Weasley.”

McGonagall ignored him with a pointed sniff. “I can assure you I will be having this conversation with Mr. and Ms. Weasley as well. Oh, one more thing Mr. Potter.” 

Harry turned to face her. 

“Your mother told me of your skills as a seeker,” said McGonagall curtly. “As we are short a competent one, I expect you to try out for the position?”

“Oh, er, maybe. It’s going to be a busy year and-” Harry was cut off by the disapproving look on McGonagall’s face. Suddenly, he could think of no better idea than giving try outs a go. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” 

“Excellent. I want that trophy back in my office. Do I make myself clear?”

Harry shrugged, but thought of his promise to his father. “Now that there’s a Potter back on the team, I’m sure there will be something worth polishing.”

McGonagall showed the faintest grin across her face before shooing him into the hall. The Great Hall was like nothing he had ever seen before. Thousands of wax candles floated around the room. The loud clatter of conversation filled his ears. There were four very long rows of wooden tables, each adorned with different colors representing the Houses. Harry looked up to see a starry night overhead. It was simply beautiful.

Soon, though, Harry looked to the raised dais to find his mother. Sure enough, Lily was engaged in conversation with Hagrid. She was laughing and Harry felt very glad. His Mum was always a happy person, but even someone as obtuse as Harry could tell she missed England. Harry suspected his Dad saw it too, and that’s why he arranged for as many business trips as he could so he could take Lily on mini-holidays in London. 

Harry had worried about his Mum teaching at the same school. He worried about other students making fun of him, or not being able to get into any mischief while she roamed the halls. James had taken Harry aside one day at home to teach him the best hiding spots in the school to avoid getting caught doing…things. Harry had flushed very red at the thought. His dad always joked with Harry that he had taken after him in that department, but the truth was Harry wasn’t very experienced at any of it. There were plenty of admirers, to be sure. Being the captain of the Quidditch team and the son of Lily and James did make him quite fanciable. Harry did go on many first dates, but very few made it past that. As it was, he was about to turn 17 and hadn’t gone further than a few awkward snogs. Truthfully, Harry never felt much desire to go beyond that with the girls he dated. That wasn’t to say he didn’t desire to do certain things, but he had realized he wasn’t like other boys in that respect. He had to actually like the girl a great deal before he did anything serious with her. 

Harry felt a bit lost as kids ran around him, embracing in hugs after not seeing each other for an entire summer. Not sure what to do with himself, he thankfully caught his Mum’s eye. She gave a big smile and waved, nudging Hagrid at the same time. Hagrid too waved and Harry returned it. Lily smiled and pointed at the table nearest the wall. It was draped in red and gold. Harry made his way over to the Gryffindor table and took an empty seat away from his new housemates.

No sooner did Harry sit down then he was accosted by Ron, flanked by Dean and Seamus.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, Potter?” Weasley said, his fists turning white.

“Sitting, Weasley. Are you that dense?” Harry answered.

“This is the Gryffindor table. Shouldn’t you be over with Malfoy and his lot?”

Harry looked over to see a blond-haired boy preening in front of a few seventh year girls in green. 

“Sorting Hat decided I belonged in the House of the brave. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Deal with this, Potter,” Weasley revealed a wand pointed directly at him. But before he could mutter an incantation, an arm grabbed his elbow. Harry looked to see a bushy-haired girl getting in between him and Harry.

“Are you a fool, Ron? The entire faculty will see you!” the girl said.

“But Hermione! He has it coming,” Ron whined.

“And what exactly has he done?” She crossed her arms and tapped her feet. Harry couldn’t help but smirk.

“It’s more his existing than anything.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes and then turned to face Harry. “I apologize for my boyfriend. He doesn’t realize he isn’t a barbarian sometimes. I’m Hermione Granger.” She stuck out her hand, earning a glare from Ron.

Harry shook it and grinned at Ron, who turned beet red. “Harry Potter.”

“Welcome to Gryffindor. As Head Girl, please let me know if you need any help getting around the castle.”

“Oh, I definitely will.” He winked at Ron, who lunged at Harry. Fortunately, Dean and Seamus grabbed him before he could do any damage. Hermione shouted something high-pitched at Ron, who immediately calmed down, and the group stalked away. 

At that moment, Dumbledore rose to his feet. Harry didn’t even recall seeing him enter. The old man stood at the pedestal and proceeded to welcome the students back to school. Then the Sorting Hat sang a rather lively tune and before Harry knew it, dozens of first years had been sorted and Dumbledore had called for the feast to commence.

Harry was awed by the selection and loaded his plate with baked chicken, roasted potatoes, and Brussel sprouts. 

“Hey Harry!” Neville shouted from across the way. “You want to eat with us?” He motioned to himself and a couple boys Harry didn’t know. He couldn’t help but see Ron and Ginny close by but decided not to be rude to Neville as he rose to join them. Unfortunately for Harry, he didn’t realize someone had tied his shoelaces together until he was already on his way to the floor. Food flew everywhere, including on Harry’s robes. He hit the ground with a thud, scraping his palms. 

Harry looked up to see all of Gryffindor laughing at him. Ron was far and away the most delighted, while Hermione scolded him, Neville looked embarrassed, and Dean and Seamus patted Ginny on her back. 

Harry stared daggers at Ginny, and she returned his stare with a carefree smile before going back to her food. 

Suddenly, Lily Potter was at the table, silencing the laughter and vanishing the food on the ground and on Harry. 

“You ok?” she asked, helping him to his feet.

“Fine. You don’t need to help me,” Harry said coolly.

Lily gave her son a sympathetic look before heading back to the table as the Great Hall came down from their revelry.

“Good thing your mum was there to clean you up, ickle Harry,” Ginny teased, earning another round of laughs from the table.

Instead of sitting next to Neville, Harry grabbed what was left of his plate and took a seat as far away from them as possible. As he ate in silence, one thought kept echoing through his brain: _I hate Ginny Weasley._


	4. Chapter 3

To most students, the first week back at Hogwarts was a magical experience spent talking to ghosts, learning secret passageways, and reconnecting with friends. For Harry Potter, the first week of Hogwarts was rather miserable. 

The classes went well. Harry was thankful that the curriculum mostly mirrored his Beauxbaton classes. Charms and Defense were by far his best subjects, and his professors spoke fondly of his parents and Rosalynn. He enjoyed Herbology, Astronomy and Runes well enough, and despite Professor McGonagall being rather strict in class, he took to Transfiguration quite well. Potions was…interesting. He was ok at it but having your mother as your professor certainly cramped his style. Lily wouldn’t let him slack off at all, and like most mothers, she assumed more from him than he could possibly meet. 

His most hated class was undoubtedly Muggle Studies. Harry was adamant about not taking it, but Lily practically insisted on his enrollment. It wasn’t that he disliked muggles; on the contrary, he had many Muggleborn friends at Beauxbaton and was proud of his parents for championing Muggleborn rights and muggle protections. No, his hatred of the class was solely down to the professor: Arthur Weasley.

Why his mother insisted he take a class run by that man was beyond Harry. He remembered growing up hearing terrible things about Arthur and his wife, mostly about how they refused to fight in the first war. Harry was not a hateful person, but one thing he definitely hated was a coward. And if his Dad was even half-telling the truth, Arthur Weasley was a coward. He remained steadfastly silent in class, no matter how much Arthur attempted to engage him with a pathetically endearing smile. 

But Arthur Weasley was not the reason Harry was having a rough go of it. No, the reason Harry’s first week of school was miserable was due to his fellow students. It seemed all of Gryffindor, and too many from other Houses, had it in for him. He couldn’t go five feet without someone glaring at him or muttering a stinging hex his direction. With the exception of Neville, no one would even talk to him. Harry would sit by himself at meals, shoveling his food into his mouth to escape the Great Hall as quickly as possible. Occasionally he would catch his mum’s eye and she would give him a sad smile.

Harry had never experienced such hostility. His popularity at Beauxbaton made him completely forget that in some parts of the world, there were people who hated the Potter name.

As bad as most students were, though, they paled in comparison to Ginny Weasley. Ron and his lackeys, who Harry had learned were named Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, were a mere nuisance. But Ginny had taken it upon herself to be his chief tormentor. On his first night at school, she had managed to place itching powder in his bed. During Herbology class on Wednesday, she coaxed a plant aptly named “Spitting Mimbus Flora” by tickling the underside of the leaves, resulting in sticky green goop plastering his face. The whole class had burst into laughter. 

This did little to stop her as she continued to harass Harry at every possible opportunity. Harry, trying to not stoop to her level, simply stewed in his anger but never responded. He knew he couldn’t compete with her pranks. No, what Harry needed was information. He would happen upon some while walking with Neville in the courtyard one day.

“So how’s first week going?” Neville asked, drawing a raised brow from Harry.

“Really?” he responded coolly. “Haven’t you seen how it’s going?” 

“Uh, yeah, kind of. I keep telling Ron and Dean to leave you alone. They seem to accept you and me as friends, but I can’t seem to get them to back down.”

“Honestly, they are the least of my problems.”

“Yeah, Ginny can be a bit relentless,” Neville smiled.

“I get it, in a sense,” Harry said. “I mean, our families and all. But I haven’t really done anything to her and she just keeps pushing me. You have any insight on that?” 

Neville was silent and refused to meet Harry’s eye.

“C’mon, Neville. We’re friends too, you know,” Harry felt guilty for laying it on Neville but needed answers.

“Fine,” Neville huffed. “It’s her dad. Professor Weasley. I think Ginny didn’t take too kindly to how you act around him.”

“Are you serious?” Harry shouted. “The git is a coward, and she expects me to treat him with respect?”

Suddenly Neville grabbed Harry by the collar and shoved him up against a nearby wall.

“Hey! Don’t say that about Professor Weasley, at least not around me!” Neville looked almost murderous -- and Harry looked genuinely frightened. Realization dawned on Neville’s face and he quickly let Harry go. “Sorry. I know your family has a history. But I like the Weasleys and Arthur has been like a second dad to me. Just whatever is going on between you guys, keep me out of it. Ok?”

“Yeah, ok. Sorry, mate.” Harry was still shaken a bit as they continued on towards Hagrid’s hut in awkward silence. Remembering his goal, Harry shifted tactics.

“So, what exactly has Hogwarts been like with Wealseys running the show?”

Neville shrugged. “Fine, I guess. They’ve been a fixture on every Quidditch team since I’ve been here.” 

Harry bristled at the comment. 

“Sorry.” Neville said. “Ginny’s captain this year, which everyone is a bit shocked by since Ron is also on the team and a 7th year. But Ginny’s probably the best player in school, so it’s definitely the right choice. Ron’s not too upset about it. He’s too busy with Hermione anyway, though you ask me he’s in for a rude awakening.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s NEWT year, of course. Hermione is going to have Ron on studying lock down.”

Harry made sure to note of that development, as it could come in handy later on. He was a bit sour on learning Ginny was captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Thoughts of Simon and Charlie Weasley immediately entered his brain.

“I think Ron should be fine, though,” Neville continued. “I mean, he’s no Hermione when it comes to his studies, but people don’t give him enough credit. Ginny, though, she’s real smart. But not just in school. She’s sneaky like the twins. Trust me, Harry, if you’re looking for a war with Ginny, best save yourself the trouble and quit now.”

“She did start it. And I need to respond. You sure like to talk Ginny up. Something I should know?” Harry waggled his eyebrows, causing Neville to blush.

“Me and Ginny? No. We went to a ball together in my 4th year, but that was pretty much a disaster. After that, we realized we were better off as friends, despite Ron wanting us together. I keep telling him it won’t happen.”

“You seem a bit disappointed.”

Neville turned even redder. “Look, she’s really fanciable. Any bloke would be blind to see it, save you maybe.” 

Harry kept his face neutral but he felt a weird sensation in his chest. 

“But,” continued Neville, “I’ve come to accept Ginny and me will only be friends, and I’m ok with that. Eventually, most boys arrive at that conclusion.”

“What does that mean?”

“Uh, nothing,” Neville said. “So the other thing about Ron is--“

“No, hold on.” Harry couldn’t care less about Ron. “What are you trying to say?”

“Look, it’s not like what it seems.”

“Like _what_ seems?” Harry pressed.

“Fine.” Neville avoided looking at Harry and scraped his trainers on the stone floor. “Ginny has dated a bit.” 

“Define _a bit_.”

“Well, I guess more than a bit. After we dated in third year, she started seeing this boy in Ravenclaw. Michael, I think. That was her 4th year. Then in her fifth year, she seemed to have a different boyfriend every week.”

“Interesting,” Harry felt the gears turning in his head. 

“I think she’s currently seeing Dean. Ron isn’t too happy about that. Dean is known as a bit of a player. He’s done a bunch of stuff that Ron would be right pissed about, knowing he’s dating his sister. But it’s none of our business. I keep telling him that. And Dean is in Ginny’s year so at least it’s not some older bloke. Besides, Ginny can do what she wants, right?”

“Uh, sure. Right. Nobody’s business but hers.”

And now Harry’s.

The next week passed by in a blur as the workload started piling up. Harry was managing all right, but the pranks hadn’t let up either. Ginny was still leading the assault, even though Harry had stopped being rude to Professor Weasley. Harry’s attitude adjustment came not from Neville’s tense words but also his mum, who had shocked him when she scolded Harry over his behavior in Muggle studies. Once again, Harry bemoaned having a parent as his teacher.

On the second Saturday in September, a large notice was found tacked to the wall of the Gryffindor common room. Quidditch tryouts were to take place the following week.

“You think you’ll try out?” Neville asked Harry.

“Kind of have to,” Harry said. “My dad is really insistent on me going pro. What about you?”

“Nah, I’m far more comfortable on the ground. In fact, throw me in a bunch of dirt and I’m right chuffed.” This caused Harry to laugh for the first time in weeks. 

“You think you’re good enough to make the team?”

“Maybe. Tough to say. I was the captain of my team at Beauxbaton but who knows if that’s good enough here.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, we haven’t had a half-decent seeker in years. If you manage to stay upright, you’ll earn the spot.”

“You’re forgetting one thing: Ginny is captain. A Weasley will never choose a Potter.”

“I think you’re underestimating her, mate.”

“We’ll see,” Harry said, and the pair headed off to lunch.

Things had settled down for Harry as most students had moved on from their outward hostility and settled into a more reasonable state of pretending he didn’t exist. Even Ginny had quit it with the pranks, and Harry wondered if he had Neville to thank for that. 

But the peace was short-lived, as things were about to explode in more ways than one.

On Friday, Harry found himself paired with a Slytherin girl with spiky black hair and a rather glum disposition. They had just added a pinch of ground three-eyed crow’s head when Lily called the girl up to her desk.

Dean Thomas approached Harry at that moment.

“I hear you’re trying out for seeker, Potter,” he snarled, his nostrils flared. Harry turned away from his bubbling cauldron. 

“Maybe, what’s it to you?” he asked.

“That’s my position, and I don’t plan on losing it to a git like you.” 

Harry gave him a once over and grinned. Dean was far too tall for the position. “No wonder the team hasn’t won in ages.”

“Remember your place, Potter. My girlfriend is captain, so I wouldn’t even bother flying unless you want to get several bludgers to the face.”

Harry’s temper was about to get the best of him when his mum chimed in from behind her desk. “Enough with the chatter, everyone! Judging by the clock, your potions should be turning translucent about now.”

Begrudgingly, Harry turned back to his cauldron. A low rumbling emanated from the bottom. Bubbles started forming, small at first but then growing in size. Harry peered closer in inspection, and just as his nose was about to skim the liquid, it exploded violently in his face. Thick lumps of translucent potion covered his hair, making it even messier. His robes were practically drenched in the liquid. The classroom burst in laughter, with the largest round coming from his fellow Gryffindors. 

Harry immediately sought out Ginny, who had a casual smirk on her face. He followed her eyes to Dean, who was holding a vial of goat eyes, which Harry knew from his mum to be a natural reactor with most potions. They often caused severe eruptions. Harry’s mind when blank and his face red with fury. 

“Harry, are you all right, dear?” his mum interjected, rushing over to him while waving her wand to evaporate most of the potion. Upon reaching Harry, she produced a damp rag and started wiping his face, causing another round of laughter. 

“I’ll be right back to clear this mess,” Lily announced to the class. “Please put a vial of your potion on my desk as you finish.” With that, she exited to her storage closet.

“Need Mummy to wipe away the tears too, Potter?” Ginny said. 

Harry could admit Ginny was a very clever girl, but he also noticed she ran her mouth a bit too much. The girl never seemed to shut up and in Harry’s opinion, that often could get you into trouble. Ginny seemed to like confrontation. He noticed this when he came across her chewing out a girl named Romilda for rubbing Dean’s shoulder in Astronomy. Harry, on the other hand, was a very polite boy. He never sought confrontation and preferred to play peacemaker instead of instigator. But pushed hard enough, he would lash out quite viciously. He never meant the words he said, but he often could not help the venom from spewing from his mouth. Today was such a day where Harry wished he had a time turner.

“Real funny having your boyfriend do your dirty work for you. How often are you on your back for him to get him to do your bidding?”

The room went silent save a few sniggers from the Slytherins. Ginny stared icily at Harry.

“What did you say?” she asked as though she missed his words.

“It’s really no wonder you have so many boys at your beck and call. There really is no such thing as a free lay, is there?”

“You’re just bitter no girl will touch your willy, Potter.” 

“I would,” a girl’s voice interjected from the other side of the room.

“I’m sure you’re dying to, Weasley. I mean, I’m probably the only guy you haven’t gotten to yet.” Harry turned to Dean. “How’s it feel riding the village bicycle, Thomas? Real squeaky, I bet.”

“Harry!” his mum exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth. She had just returned with supplies in time to hear Harry’s outburst.

Harry was momentarily distracted by his mother’s shouts and didn’t notice the spell Ginny shot at his face. But he sure felt the bats pour from his nose.

“Argh!” Harry cried as he swatted at the winged creatures. Dean had begun launching his own hex towards Harry, but a shield deflected it. Lily muttered an additional spell and the bats vanished.

“That’s enough!” she bellowed. “I am shocked at all of you, especially you.” She was looking at Harry with fury. “Gryffindors fighting Gryffindors. I never thought I’d see the day. Detention for both of you! Tomorrow night!”

Both Harry and Ginny didn’t even try to argue. Harry knew he crossed a line. One night’s detention was probably getting off lightly, but he was sure he was in for a beating from Ginny’s boyfriend and brother. Detention was preferable.

It didn’t take long for word to spread about their confrontation. The whole school seemed to be talking about it at dinner. Neville refused to sit with Harry, and Harry realized how badly he had mucked up now that his only friend was avoiding him. 

Ron and Dean were glowering at Harry during the entire evening, starting at dinner and continuing into the common room as Harry struggled to pay attention to the essay he was writing for Muggle Studies. Ron kept menacingly pounding his fist into his other hand. Harry knew they wanted to tear his limbs off, yet surprisingly the beating never came. Harry once again figured he needed to thank Neville for interjecting, yet he, too, was looking rather furious at him. 

Right as Harry was about to call it a night, Ginny entered the common room. She barely glanced at Harry before heading to Dean. She whispered something in his ear and pulled him away to a secluded corner. Harry figured they were going to have a nice snog but was surprised to hear raised voices and Dean gesturing wildly. Finally, he threw up his hands and walked away in a huff. Ginny shrugged her shoulders and proceeded up to her dorm room. 

Weariness soon overcame Harry and he headed up to his own dorm room. As he lay on his bed with the curtains shut, Harry felt a great unease about the next day. Not only were Quidditch tryouts tomorrow, which meant large projectiles being hurtled at him by an upset team, but Saturday night marked an even less pleasant situation. Harry’s last thought before sleep took him was hoping a bludger knocked him out so he wouldn’t have to handle Ginny Weasley for a whole night. 

Saturday morning was a picture-perfect day. The air had a slight autumn chill to it, and the sun was beating down on the grass, erasing the morning dew by the time Harry stepped onto the Quidditch pitch. Harry wore his old Beauxbaton practice gear. The powder blue stood in direct contrast to the dark red of the Gryffindor uniform. About twenty hopefuls were loitering around the pitch. A few dozen more sat in the stands, mostly fellow Gryffindors, but a few Hufflepuffs and one or two Slytherins also had come to watch the tryouts. Harry noticed Ron at the bottom rafter talking to Hermione, who was wrapped in a rather large robe. Harry thought it a bit warm for such an outfit, but he recalled how his mum was constantly chilly. She even took to wearing a second robe in the dungeons during class.

As Harry walked to the center of the pitch, he felt every eye upon him. He pretended it was due to his oddly colored robes, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the reason. At the center of the pitch stood the captain, Ginny, surrounded by most of the hopefuls. Ron had jogged up to join her. As Harry hid himself towards the back of the crowd, Ginny addressed the players.

“Alright you lot. Listen up. It’s no secret that Gryffindor has had some poor luck the last few years.”

There were many nods and murmurs of agreement, and Harry snidely wondered to himself if the constant presence of a Weasley on the team had something to do with that. 

“But this year everything changes. For one, having a spot on last year’s team will no longer automatically mean a spot on this year’s team.” Several of the current team members frowned and whispered to each other. Ron’s mouth fell agape. “Instead, the best player gets the position.”

“Even you?” Demelza Robins, a fellow chaser, asked.

“Especially me,” Ginny responded. “If there are three chasers who perform better than me, I’m off the team.”

“Fat chance,” Dean said with a laugh. “Nobody’s better than my girl.” He gave Ginny a wink which she returned with an eye roll.

“We’re going to do keepers first. Aside from my brother, who is trying out?”

Harry was surprised when not one of the fifteen people at tryouts raised their hand. Ron looked positively smug.

“I guess no one sees the point going up against me,” he said, throwing a smile at Hermione.

“Or Hermione threatened to hex anyone who goes up against you, more likely,” Ginny replied. “I’m sure she knows what a surly git you get when you lose.” Ginny stuck her tongue at her brother, who returned the gesture with an inappropriate salute of his own.

“Well, let’s do Beaters next. As you all know, the two we got for last year decided gobstones were more interesting, so we need a new pair. Who’s up for it?”

Most of the crowd surged forward. Harry wasn’t too surprised. Beaters were the least skilled flyers of the bunch, and everyone enjoyed hitting people. 

As Ginny took the Beaters through the paces, Harry was accosted by both Ron and Dean.

“Listen here, you berk,” snarled Ron. “I know you think you got away with what you said to my sister, but it’s only because she threatened to hex me that I’m not pounding you into a pulp right now. But don’t get too comfortable. Dean and I have ways of making you hurt without Ginny knowing. Call her a slag again and you’ll see how much we value loyalty in Gryffindor. Got that?”

Harry was genuinely scared. “Uh, sure. Got it.” The pair began walking away when Harry stopped them. “I am sorry, Weasley. That was out of line. You too, Thomas.”

Ron gave Harry an appraising look before grunting. “Not me you need to be apologizing to.” With that, they walked away.

Several minutes passed before Ginny was done with the Beaters, having picked Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Cootes for the job.

Next up were the Chasers and all the remaining players, save Harry, lined up to try for a spot. Harry watched as the hopefuls, including Ginny, Demelza, and another chaser from last year’s team called Rebecca Wolf faced off against three newcomers. The veterans were at a distinct advantage, but Harry felt that a fifth year named Dennis Creevey was the best of the bunch, save Ginny and Demelza. 

Ginny, Harry forced himself to admit, was simply incredible. The woman was born to be on a broom. She effortlessly weaved in an out of defenders, casually dipping to avoid a bludger, and then rocketing the quaffle between the middle hoop. 

The rest was a foregone conclusion as Ginny was setting an unbeatable pace, with Dennis showing promise and Demelza proving she could work well with anyone. As they all came to the ground, Ginny immediately went to Rebecca to give her the bad news. Rebecca didn’t appear too upset and gave Ginny a big hug before congratulating Dennis and Demelza.

Finally, it was time for the Seeker tryouts. Dean stood smugly, leaning casually on his broom.

“Pity you got dressed up for nothing, Potter,” Dean said.

“We’ll see.” 

Ginny came up to them and gave some instructions. Dean barely paid attention. Harry was surprised how calm Ginny was behaving towards him, but he fully expected to be hexed while in the air. _Best get this over with,_ he thought, and he shot up in the air.

For a brief moment, Harry forgot all his troubles. The wind whipped against his face, his unruly hair pressed back. Harry did a few wide loops. Dean came up to where he hovered, and Harry couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable Dean seemed on a broom.

“When I make the team, I’ll be sure to make sure you have a great seat for all the games,” Dean challenged.

Harry ignored the taunts and focused on the flint of gold. Suddenly, he saw it at the opposite end of the pitch. Harry knew he could outfly Dean to the snitch, but he figured he would need to make a show of how much better he was if he were to have any chance of making the team. Harry took off like lightning, but in the opposite direction. Dean followed, struggling mightily to keep up. The crowd oohed and aahed at Harry’s speed. An audible gasp rose in the crowd as Harry went high into the sky, before plummeting at lightning speed towards the ground. Dean followed close behind. Harry looked back at him and saw the fear on his face. 

Dean checked up far before the ground got too close. Harry, meanwhile, kept plummeting. At that moment, he saw to his left the unmistakable glint of gold. The snitch was close. Harry kept falling, but right as he was about to hit the earth, he jerked the broom up, his sneaker skimming the ground. Harry darted to the left and before anyone else could even see it, his hand closed around the snitch.

The crowd cheered his awesome display of skill. Dean angrily landed and threw his broom on the ground. Harry landed a moment later. He walked up to Ginny and presented the snitch. “I believe this is yours.”

Ginny’s face almost betrayed a smile before returning to a scowl. “Took your time, I see.”

Dean marched over to Ginny. “Stupid broom,” he said. “Would’ve had him if my broom was at his level. I’ll write my mum and see if she can get me a new one for the season.”

“That’s probably not the best idea,” Ginny said, matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked. “I’m still seeker, right babe?” 

“First off,” Ginny said, “I’m not your babe. And second, as much as I hate to say it, Potter is clearly the better flier. Sorry, Dean. You’re off the team.”

“Are you serious?” Dean shouted. “You’re picking Potter over your boyfriend?”

“What’s this all about?” Another voice added to the argument as Ron and Hermione joined the group. ”Ginny, you’re not actually thinking about booting Dean for a Potter, are you? What would Mum say?”

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione interjected. “Ginny’s captain. It’s her decision. And Harry was clearly the better flier.”

“Taking his side, are you?” Ron barked back.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side. But if you insist on being a prat, then you can study alone tonight.” Hermione stalked off and Ron rounded back on Ginny.

“You can’t put Potter on the team. I won’t allow it!” Ron said.

“Won’t allow it?” Ginny said incredulously. “First off, Hermione is right. You are a prat. And you,” she said, looking at Dean, “are not my boyfriend. We’d only been dating for ten days, which honestly was nine days too long.”

“You’re throwing me over already?” Dean asked. “Potter was right. You are a slag.”

“Oi!” shouted Ron, his wand suddenly pointed at his best friend. “Watch your mouth or I’ll watch it for you!”

“I got this Ron,” Ginny said, pushing his wand down to his side. “Dean, if you want to call me a slag just because I didn’t let you get a leg over, go for it. But we’re through so get off my pitch.”

Dean muttered some profanities under his breath which Harry couldn’t quite pick up as he left the pitch, his tail between his legs. 

“I better go find Hermione,” Ron said, his anger subsiding into worry. “You better rethink what you’re doing Ginny. Because I’m not playing on a team with a Potter.”

“Then I guess you’re not playing,” Ginny said, arms crossed.

Ron’s mouth hung open. “Fine, you win. But it’s on you when he loses it for us.”

Ron left, leaving Ginny and Harry alone in the middle of the pitch. Harry was still trying to recover from the number of fights he had just witnessed. He looked at Ginny, trying to get words out of his mouth.

“So--“

“Listen Potter. I don’t like you one bit and if you fuck this up for my team, I’ll hex your bollocks off and shove them up your arse. We clear?”

Harry gulped. “Crystal.”

“Good. See you tonight for detention.”


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

News spread fast that for the first time in many years, a Potter was back on the Gryffindor quidditch team. And captained by a Weasley, no less. For Harry, the news was quite welcome. Some Gryffindors were actually being friendly to him, for a change. His dad had sent him a congratulatory letter along with a new pair of gloves. Even Neville was talking to him again, which confused Harry since Neville had never come across as a big Quidditch fan.

Harry couldn’t help but notice that things were not as good for Ginny as he arrived in the Great Hall for dinner. Dean was acting quite frostily towards her, as was Seamus. Ron was giving her the silent treatment as well, but Harry guessed he was just in a bad mood over Hermione’s cold shoulder. Hermione had instead taken a seat next to Harry and Neville, peppering Harry with questions about his Mum’s apothecary business and Beauxbaton. 

Harry turned to see Ginny eating with Demelza and Colin Creevey. Normally she was quite boisterous, with a voice that carried from one end of the Great Hall to the other. But he could not hear her laughter today. She was simply nodding along to Colin’s wild gesturing with his arms. 

Harry was torn. On one hand, Ginny had put herself out there to get Harry on the team. Plus, he still felt bad about what he said to her. On the other hand, she was a Weasley. She had pranked and hexed him countless times for seemingly no reason. His life had been miserable since arriving at school, and Ginny Weasley was the chief source of his troubles. Perhaps she deserved her current social ostracizing. 

After pushing aside the last of the mincemeat pie, Harry gathered his bag and walked with Hermione out of the Great Hall. He caught Ron’s eyes and could feel an uncomfortable chill run down his spine as Ron’s face grew red and the fork in his hand shook. 

“I should probably go to him, shouldn’t I?” Hermione asked, taking a step in Ron’s direction.

“Probably for the best,” Harry replied. “His face is about to turn the color of his hair. Put him out of his misery and forgive him, right?”

“Sometimes I like making him mad. He gets so cute when he’s angry,” Hermione’s hand shot to her mouth. “Oh! Forget I said that! Harry, please!” she said, grabbing his robes.

“Forget you said what?” Harry said with a smile. Hermione let his robes go.

“Thanks,” she said before starting towards Ron. Hermione had gone just a few steps when she turned back to Harry. “You know, I can put in a good word with him.” 

“I don’t think Ron would appreciate you talking me up, but thanks.” 

Hermione shrugged. “Let me know if you change your mind. People might actually want to be your friend if you let them.” With that, Hermione went to join Ron and Harry continued out of the Great Hall.

Harry headed to the dungeons for the first of several Saturday evening detentions. He was optimistic his mum wouldn’t be too harsh on him, but the idea of spending hours with a Weasley made his stomach churn.

When he arrived at the drafty potions room, he was surprised to find dozens of empty cauldrons on the floor. Lily was grading papers behind her desk when she looked up as Harry closed the door behind him.

“Hi, Mum.” Harry said cheerfully.

“Don’t ‘Hi, Mum’ me,” Lily said, returning to her papers. “When we’re in a classroom, it’s Professor Potter.”

“Yes, Professor Potter,” Harry said. Lily put down her quill and rose to meet Harry’s sightline. She was not a tall woman but loomed as large as Hagrid when she needed to.

“Before Ms. Weasley gets here, I just wanted to say how ashamed and disappointed I am in your behavior yesterday. What you said to that girl was beyond wrong, Harry. And I thought I raised you better than that.”

“But she’s a--“Harry started.

“A what? A Weasley?” Lily threw up her hands. “I can curse your father sometimes, but Harry, listen good and hard to what I’m about to say. You need to grow up and move on from this petty feud. It started hundreds of years before you were even born. And what happened with your father and Molly has nothing to do with you.”

“What about what happened to Simon? Am I supposed to forget about that?”

“Did Ginny Weasley do that? Or was it Charlie?” This silenced Harry. “I knew what I was getting into when I married your father. But I never liked it and it almost lost us a war. That anger builds up in a person, Harry. And no matter how happy they become, it creates a hole in their heart. Grudges, blood feuds. These are not ways to live one’s life. I tried to shield you kids from James’ rivalry, but the feud was too big for Simon to avoid. And Rosalynn too. Jack, well who knows about Jack? But it can end with you Harry. “

“She pranked me, Mum. Ginny was the one who reignited the feud.”

Lily suddenly slammed her palms on the desk. “Then be the one to extinguish it.”

“I don’t see a reason to let her get away with it.”

“No? Have you not considered why you’re still in one piece after what you said to her?”

Harry gave his mother a confused look. “I figured Neville.”

“Maybe you figured wrong,” Lily patted Harry’s cheek. “Go grab a seat by those cauldrons on your left while we wait for--“

The door creaked open and in walked Ginny, a scowl on her face. She threw her bag on the ground and took the seat furthest from Harry’s.

“Good of you to join us, Ms. Weasley,” Lily said.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Ginny replied.

“Please take a flannel and begin polishing the cauldrons. No magic. I’ll be in storage if the two of you need anything.” Lily went to the storage closet and turned to Harry and Ginny. “Don’t break anything unless it’s attached to your body.” She disappeared into the closet.

Harry couldn’t help but smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ginny grin as well.

For the next hour they worked in silence, both sitting on the cold stone floor as they went through one cauldron after the other. Several times Harry would glance over at Ginny, her face scrunched as she tried to rub out a stubborn stain. Her hair was a bit frazzled and her forehead glistened with what his dad had always called a “womanly glow.” Harry couldn’t help but stare as a bead of sweat began dripping down the side of her neck and disappeared into--

“Are you going to shine those cauldrons or just stare at me all night?” Ginny asked, her head tilted.

“Er, no. Sorry,” Harry muttered back, his cheeks flushing, the back of his neck suddenly growing hot. He returned to polishing the cauldron in front of him.

For the rest of the detention they said not a word to each other but stole glances throughout. The silence hung in the air, occasionally interrupted by the clanging of pots in Lily’s office. Finally, she remerged and took stock of their work. Satisfied, Lily dismissed Harry and Ginny from the dungeon.

Ginny bolted from her seat and practically ran out of the room. 

“Looks like you haven’t lost your way with girls,” Lily said, barely able to get the words out before breaking into laughter.

“Always nice to spend time with you, too,” Harry groaned and slowly made his way out of the dungeon. Just three more detentions and he could finally be rid of Ginny Weasley, who was beginning to occupy too much real estate in his brain.

For the next week, Harry successfully avoided any direct interaction. He kept to himself in class and at practice. When Saturday evening came, he showed up early and immediately began polishing cauldrons. Harry deliberately did not look up when the door creaked open and slammed shut, nor did he lift his eyes when he heard several cauldrons drop and clang rather loudly off the stone floor. He especially didn’t react to the sudden bursts of curses emanating from the other side of the dungeon. 

This routine continued for the next two weeks as the reminders of a cold winter crept ever closer. Things were equally frosty between the pair, and eventually it got so cold that the ice had no choice but to crack during their final detention together.

“You’re a right git, you know,” Ginny said, dropping her rag into the cauldron beside her.

“Excuse me?” Harry stopped polishing and turned to face Ginny. 

“You heard me.” 

“Well, isn’t that the pot calling the cauldron black,” Harry said, rising to his feet. “After all the crap you put me through.” 

Ginny rose to meet him. “Well, you deserved it!” she shouted, stepping over cauldrons.

“No need to yell,” Harry coolly responded, his feet moving on their own.

“Oh, no. I need to make sure this gets through your thick head.”

Harry and Ginny suddenly found themselves nearly nose to nose.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he asked. “Is it just because I’m a Potter?”

“That would be reason enough.” Ginny said, her hand dipping into her robes and searching for her wand.

“But it’s not the only reason, is it?” Harry challenged. “It’s because of what I said, isn’t it?”

Ginny stared at him for the briefest of seconds before snorting. “You think I care about that?”

“You don’t? Most normal girls would.” 

“Well, I’m not like most normal girls, am I?”

Harry thought about that. Ginny Weasley certainly wasn’t a normal girl. “I suppose you have a point. Normal girls don’t cause a bloke so much physical pain.”

Ginny gave the barest hint of a smile before her scowl reappeared. “Well, now you know!” She turned around, but Harry grabbed her shoulder and spun her back. 

“So what is it then?” he asked. Ginny looked at his hand on her shoulder and then back into his eyes. Harry returned her stare and slowly lifted his hand.

“My dad,” she said and plopped herself in a nearby seat. Harry took the one next to her.

“Professor Weasley?”

“Yeah. You’ve been awful to him in class.”

Harry grew angry at the comment. “Well, he deserves it, the bloody coward.”

Within an instant, Harry regretted the comment as he had a wand pointed right between his eyes.

“Take it back,” Ginny said, her voice low and her nostrils flared.

“N-no,” Harry squeaked. “My dad says he didn’t fight. And that makes him a coward.”

“And do you believe in everything your dad says? You don’t have a mind of your own?”

“I know what’s right,” Harry argued, his voice returning to him. He now stepped forward, causing Ginny to simultaneously step back and dig the end of the wand further into Harry’s forehead.

“My dad is no coward,” Ginny gritted out. “He’s not the one who ran and took his family to France. And you don’t know anything about what he did or did not do during the war.”

“And you do?”

“I know what he’s told me, and what my brothers told me about the war. But most of all, I know my Dad and he is no coward.”

“All Weasleys are cowards,” Harry pressed.

Ginny pushed back, forcing Harry back on his heels. The wand remained firmly entrenched in his forehead and he soon found himself being pressed up against the wall. 

“Do I look like a coward to you?” she asked.

“Looks can be deceiving.”

Ginny glared at him with an intensity that unnerved Harry, but then she removed the wand from his forehead and walked back to her stack of cauldrons. 

Befuddled, Harry gaped her and grabbed his rag. He kneeled back on the ground and returned to work. For some reason, his thoughts turned to what his mother had said right before Ginny entered. Truthfully, he did not know Arthur Weasley from Merlin. All he knew of the man was what his dad had told him, and clearly his mother disagreed. Judging by Ginny’s reaction, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if there were some things he didn’t know about the war and Arthur Weasley.

He also recalled some things he overheard a few students say about his mum and how Neville had to steal his wand to keep Harry from hexing them into next week. He would always defend his mum, no matter what. But there were also the nasty comments about his father and siblings. Perhaps it was living his whole life in France, but Harry for the first time truly began to understand that there were places in the world where being people viewed the Potter name in the same way he saw the Weasley’s.

“I’m sorry,” Harry blurted without thinking. 

Ginny gave him a funny look. “For what?”

“For being a git to your dad. I suppose I was being overly harsh.”

“Too right you were.”

“And I’m sorry for saying those things about you in class. Even if you don’t care, it’s none of my business and you didn’t deserve that.”

Harry put his head down and focused diligently on his task, wishing he could crawl into one of those polished cauldrons.

“I’m sorry too,” Ginny’s voice took him by surprise, and he turned to see her staring at him intently. “For pranking you and getting everyone else involved in our stupid family feud.”

Harry remained silent, wondering to himself just who this girl was and what happened to Ginny Weasley, sworn tormentor. 

“And your Mum is pretty nice.”

Harry couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Yeah, she sorta is, isn’t she? And your dad, as much as I hate to say it, might just be the most mild-mannered man I have ever met.” Ginny gave her first genuine laugh in Harry’s presence.

“He kinda needs to be to balance out my mum,” she said.

“I figured as much,” Harry said. “He didn't yell at me when I was being a prat. The man has the patience of a bloody saint.”

“Between my mother and me, saint might be underselling it.”

“Perhaps he should be made Pope. You’re beyond a handful.”

Ginny went quiet and returned to her cauldrons. Harry worried he had said the wrong thing, but perhaps being on good terms with Ginny was simply easier said than done. 

“I’m not a slag,” Ginny said suddenly.

“What?” Harry asked, once again pausing his polishing.

Ginny bit her lip before taking a breath and continuing. “All those boys I date. I don’t actually do much with them aside from a snog here or there.”

“Ok. I thought you didn’t care what people thought.” 

“I don’t. Let them think what they want.” Ginny straightened her back and puffed out her chest. “There’d be nothing wrong with me if I was shagging the whole Hufflepuff Quidditch team.”

“I suppose not. Though, there are a few trolls on that team, no? You could do better,” Harry joked, and Ginny playfully punched him on the shoulder. “Why are you telling me if you don’t care?”

Ginny looked away in thought before shrugging her shoulders. “Anyway, I just thought you should know that I’m not like that.”

Harry shrugged and Ginny went back to work, occasionally stealing glances at Harry. But a thought nagged at Harry.

“Why do you date so many boys then?” Harry asked. “Why not just date one for a while?”

“Well, that is the goal,” Ginny said, “but I guess I just haven’t found any boy worth more than a week and a snog.”

“So you’re trying everyone out to see if one fits at some point?”

Ginny shrugged. “More or less. Everyone deserves a chance. But I suppose I am just really good at finding red flags early on.”

Harry contemplated her words and found difficulty disagreeing with her logic. He half-wondered if that was exactly what he had been doing accepting all those dates but never letting them get too far.

Seemingly reading his mind, Ginny continued. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” 

“Nothing,” Ginny said casually. “Just girls talk, you know. And your name comes up a lot. Yet I never see you with a witch...or wizard.” 

“I like witches just fine,” Harry said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “Not that there's anything wrong with liking wizards, of course. I’m just, I don’t know, waiting for the right one.”

“But how can you know who’s the right one if you don’t give any a chance?” 

“It’s not like that. Look, back in France I went on a few dates, sure. But it’s easy to see that they’re only interested in my last name or my status. And here, that seems to have had the opposite effect. But in the end, it’s the same, isn’t it?”

“What’s the same?” Ginny asked with genuine concern in her eyes.

“Whether girls want to date me or not, it’s all because of what they think I am: A bloody Potter.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence, each choosing to focus on making the cauldrons extra shiny. Finally, Lily emerged from her storage closet to inspect their work. Judging the cauldrons sufficiently polished, she dismissed them from the dungeons.

Harry and Ginny walked back towards the Gryffindor dorms, Harry keeping a pace just behind her. Finally, they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. After announcing the password, Ginny put her hand on the door before turning back to Harry.

“We’re not friends,” she said suddenly.

“Erm, ok,” Harry replied. And with that Ginny opened the door and disappeared up the stairs, leaving Harry thoroughly befuddled. 

With their detentions at an end, Harry and Ginny returned to their normal routines, rarely interacting except for the occasional glance in class.

But things had warmed between them, despite Ginny’s protestations. When they passed each other in the halls, Harry would meet Ginny’s eyes and give a subtle nod. The first time he did this, she simply stared past him. But the second time, Harry could have sworn he saw the faintest hint of a smile. 

The only time Harry and Ginny talked at all was during Quidditch practice, which Ginny had started the second week of term.

On one particularly frigid early October evening, Harry found himself in a tremendous dive chasing the Snitch. The receding sun made it difficult to see the Snitch, so Harry relied on his ears to capture the fluttering of the wings. His dive appeared almost suicidal.

As he plummeted towards the ground, Harry reached out his fingers and just brushed the Snitch with his fingertips. He was mere feet from the ground when the Snitch suddenly diverted its course towards the hoops on the opposite end of the pitch. Harry swung his broom up in an act of desperation, but it was too late. His right foot caught the cold, hard turf and his leg bent awkwardly at the knee. He let out a cry of pain but managed to keep himself upright. Grimacing, he pressed forward towards the hoops on the opposite side of the pitch.

A whistle rang out through the field, halting the action, but Harry ignored it as he pressed on towards the Snitch. The Gryffindor team all stopped to watch the display, but Ginny kept blowing the whistle. 

With a scowl, Harry slowed his broom to a crawl. He gingerly hopped off, careful not to put any weight on his right leg. Using the broom as a crutch, he hopped over to the team assembled in the middle of the field.

Ginny’s face was like stone, and her eyes pierced through Harry, causing him to duck his head. 

“When I blow the whistle,” she said with a bite that matched the cold of the night. “You stop. Got it, Potter?”

Harry glared back but nodded.

Ginny turned to look at the rest of the team. “You lot need to work a lot harder if we want to win the cup. Our flying was slow, and our passes were sloppy. We need to put in more effort. In fact, Potter here was the only one flying like he cared.”

Both Harry and Ron’s eyebrows flew up. Harry smiled. Ron bit his lip. 

“Next practice is Tuesday and I expect more from you lot,” Ginny said. “Now beat it.”

The team slowly started packing up their equipment and trudging back up the hill towards the school. Harry looked down at his leg, wincing in pain as he attempted to walk normally. His teammates began growing smaller in the distance and Harry contemplated sending a Patronus to his mother. But he quickly dismissed the thought as needing one’s mother to save you wouldn’t earn many cool points.

Harry continued to grimace and wince his way through the pitch when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Ginny with her broom on her shoulder and looking far too smug for her own good.

“Need any help?” Ginny asked.

“No,” Harry replied, a bit breathless. “I can manage.”

Ginny came in front of Harry and bent down in front of him to examine his knee. His breath hitched for an entirely different reason.

Ginny gently pressed her hands on the side of his knee and frowned. She stood up, still looking at the knee. “Looks like you twisted it.”

She moved next to him and pressed her shoulder against his. Then she grabbed his arm and placed in across her shoulder.

“It’ll be easier this way,” she said. 

“You don’t have to do this you know,” Harry said, and Ginny shrugged his arm off her shoulder.

“Fine, if you want to spend the next six hours crawling back to the castle, be my guest. Just make sure Filch doesn’t catch you. He’s been dying to use the whip on a Potter again, from what I hear him tell his cat.”

Ginny started walking off when Harry called out to her. 

“Wait!” he said, hopping over to Ginny. He pressed against her for support, and she again placed his arm over her shoulder. Together they began the walk back to the castle.

Neither said anything, both choosing to concentrate on the task at hand. When they finally arrived at the castle gate, Harry stopped.

“I think I can take it from here,” he said. 

“But the infirmary is still a few flights of stairs up,” she argued, her head tilted.

“Yeah, but….” Harry struggled to find the right words.

“But what? Start making sense, Potter.”

“There’s a lot of students around. Including your brother and all your exes.” Ginny bumped Harry in the shoulder, causing him to nearly lose his balance and grab a nearby wall for support.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“Nothing. Just I doubt it would be good for you to be seen so close to me.”

“Oh,” she said, her face flushing. “You’re right. I guess I should let you get on with it then. Wait here and I’ll get Neville to come take you the rest of the way. You want me to take your broom, at least?”

Hearing the word ‘broom’ made Harry slap his palm to his forehead.

“Broom! Why didn’t I think of that on the pitch? I could’ve flown my way to the infirmary! How could we both be so stupid?” 

Harry was laughing and Ginny gave a forced chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. Right,” she said, her voice a bit higher than usual. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of it. Well, I got to run to do…things. See, ya Potter.” Before Harry could even say thanks, Ginny was off up the stairs and soon disappeared entirely.

“That was weird,” Harry said to himself before mounting his broom and making his way to the infirmary.


	6. Chapter 5

Ginny Weasley was having a bad day. It all started the night before, when she accidentally left the window open after sending out an owl to Charlie. It rained incessantly that night and Ginny, a heavy sleeper, woke up to her blankets soaked. She tried several times to cast a drying charm, but her brain was in a fog. By the time she finally got her blanket dry, she was terribly late for breakfast. When she arrived at the Great Hall, Ginny was miffed to discover that most of the food was gone. 

Things only got worse from there. It had slipped Ginny’s mind that she had Transfiguration and not Charms in the morning, thus making her very late. As punishment, Professor McGonagall made her stand in front of the class and attempt to transfigure a bunny into a broomstick. Ginny was normally adept at Transfiguration, so she was frustrated by her inability to successfully turn the bunny into a broom. She spent the rest of class chasing the broom across the room as it hopped and darted its way out of capture. 

Then, Ginny forgot to reserve the Quidditch pitch for that evening after Ron asked her about it. When she tried to reserve the pitch, Madam Hooch informed her that the Slytherin squad had just snagged the time. Fuming, Ginny stomped off to her next class, Muggle Studies. Ginny was mad at herself, especially since she couldn’t figure out why she was so off-kilter that day. It felt as though her mind was a fog, her thoughts dominated by something she couldn’t quite grasp but that filled her with a sense of warmth.

Ginny was still trying to work out her issues as she entered the classroom when she was stopped in her tracks by the most unwelcome sight.

Her father was sitting at his desk having what appeared to be a pleasant conversation with none other than Lily Potter. Professor Potter was sitting at one of the student desks, waving her hands in the air excitedly. Arthur Weasley was laughing, actually laughing, as if he was friends with her. Before Ginny could say anything, the door creaked loudly behind her, causing Arthur and Lily to look up, right at Ginny. She noticed them both tense and stared at her, as if unsure how best to handle the awkwardness of that moment. Several students brushed past her and entered the classroom. Lily got up from her desk, said something hurriedly to Arthur that Ginny could not make out, and began walking out of the classroom. As she passed Ginny, Lily gave her a meek smile, but Ginny was still too stunned to respond. 

Ginny took her seat towards the back of the room, which was uncommon for her in Muggle Studies, and spent the rest of the period analyzing what she just saw. She noticed her father seem out of sorts at first, but then soon he comfortably fell into his lecture on the difference between the floo network and airplanes. It gnawed at her for the rest of the day, in fact. She was so upset and confused that she barely touched her lunch. The day dragged on and the feeling consumed more of her thoughts until she could no longer stand it. Ginny needed answers and made her way back to her father’s classroom.

Ginny knocked three times on the small wooden door. “Enter,” a voice called, and Ginny opened the door to find her father leaning over a stack of parchment. His face looked serene, the same look he had when gardening or listening to the radio by the fire at the Burrow, as though nothing could affect him.

He glanced up from his work and his face brightened. “Ginny-bug,” Arthur said, motioning her in. “I had a feeling you’d come by.”

Ginny marched deliberately to her father’s desk and firmly pressed both palms on it. “Why are you friends with Professor Potter?” she asked, but it felt more like an accusation.

Arthur tamped down the grin threatening to reveal itself before he steeled himself and responded. “Yes, sorry for the shock. We’d been trying to be a bit discreet considering our family histories. But I suppose the rubber duckie’s out of the bathwater. Yes, Professor Potter and I are friends. Does it bother you?”

“Well, yeah,” Ginny said. “She’s a Potter!”

“I’m fully aware of that. It’s on her nameplate.” 

Ginny huffed and crossed her arms. Arthur quirked an eyebrow; this time, he didn’t bother to hide his smile. “Dad, just answer the question.”

“Just like your mother,” he muttered to himself. “I’m friends with Professor Potter because she is a kind person and we share a lot in common, namely a crazy family.”

Ginny scowled. “But she’s a Potter,” she repeated.

“Are all Potters incapable of being decent humans? I didn’t raise you to care about a witch or wizard’s blood, did I?”

“That’s not the point,” Ginny said, stamping her foot. This earned a glare from her father and Ginny softened, dropping her arms. “Well, she isn’t a Potter by blood anyway, so I guess I can let this slide. But I still don’t understand befriending the enemy on principle, at least.”

“Do you find Professor Potter to be an evil person? Or is she fair and kind?”

Ginny’s shoulders sagged. “She’s pretty nice, I suppose.” 

“But she is a Potter, and yet a good person,” Arthur said, leaning back in his chair. “The measure of a person is not who their parents are or who they’re married to, but what’s in their heart. You know this.”

Arthur rose to wrap her in a hug only a father could give. She melted into his embrace. “What’s this really about, Ginny bug?”

She pushed back from him slightly and looked up. “What does Mum think about your new friend?”

Arthur released his daughter and rubbed his hand through his thinning hair. “What your mother thinks isn’t of concern to you.”

“That’s what you think. What I think is maybe you haven’t been so honest with Mum about your new friend.” 

“Just finding the right time,” Arthur said before a sigh escaped him. “The funny thing about your Mum is how similar she is to James.” 

Ginny’s mouth fell. 

“Don’t ever let her know I said that.” 

“No, I like you too much to let Mum kill you,” Ginny said with a giggle. 

“James and I never were friends, and he probably would say he despises me. But in his soul, I believe him to be a good man with an unfortunate last name. I have no doubt Lily would not have married him otherwise. This petty family feud, despite what your mother might say, has no villains. It’s not like James is Lucius Malfoy.” Ginny made a sour face. “We’re just two good-hearted families caught up in a tradition. Every generation offers an opportunity to right the wrongs of the past, and I like to think I do my part. But I’m not so brave. Your mother is the brave one. But also the stubborn one.“ 

Arthur gently took Ginny’s cheeks in his hands and stared at her intently. “No, it will take someone both brave and kind to bridge this foolish divide. Someone who embodies the best qualities of their family.”

“Putting a lot on a sixteen-year-old girl,” Ginny said.

“I’m sure you will have some help. Perhaps from someone who also embodies the best qualities of their family.”

“I really hope you don’t mean Draco,” Ginny said, causing Arthur to shrink back in disgust.

“Some feuds should stay that way,” Arthur said with an edge to his voice. Ginny gave him a wink and a kiss on the cheek before turning and speeding out of the classroom. Arthur chuckled to himself before returning to placidly grading papers.

*********

Harry was walking down a mostly empty corridor after Charms, feeling unnaturally content for the first time in ages. He had fallen into a comfortable routine of class, Quidditch and sleep. While still lacking the horde of friends he had at Beauxbaton, he took comfort in knowing that he had a true friend in Neville and a potential one in Hermione. 

And then there was Ginny. Harry’s thoughts frequently went to her, despite his best efforts. No matter what he tried to kick her out, the plain truth was Ginny Weasley was living firmly in Harry’s head rent free. Why did she torment him so much, Harry wondered. Every part of her annoyed him to no end, from her incessant need to talk loudly to her frustratingly orange mane of hair that flowed down to just above her backside. Harry was even starting to suffer physically because of Ginny, as he had begun developing a weird sensation in his stomach whenever he saw her or even thought about her.

Harry’s stomach began to clench when a pale freckled hand grabbed his robes, yanking him forcefully into an empty classroom. Harry turned to see none other than Ginny Weasley staring at him, her hand still firmly full of his robe. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Harry asked, struggling to release himself. Ginny held on tighter, using her other hand to shut the door, before dragging Harry further into the classroom.

She released her grip and sat down at an empty desk. Harry watched as she ran her hands through her luxurious hair and then tied it in a haphazard bun. Ginny gestured at Harry, who immediately complied and sat in the desk next to hers. 

“We have a problem,” she said simply. 

“We do?” Harry asked.

“Obviously,” Ginny huffed. “I thought Potters were at least supposed to be smart.”

“Nope, just visually impaired,” Harry said with a grin. “So why don’t you enlighten me as to what exactly you are talking about?”

Ginny bit her bottom lip, which caused a jolt in Harry’s stomach. “Very well. Despite the fact that you descend from a long line of gits, I’ve decided _you_ are not a total and complete git. And so I think it’s a good idea that we be friends.”

Harry’s mouth hung open. Ginny rolled her eyes and with her index finger pushed Harry’s chin up to close it. “Well?” she said, her feet tapping against the floor.

“Er-,” Harry tried to think of a response, but he was too stunned to talk.

“Fine, I’ll continue.” Ginny stood and began pacing. “It’s like this. I really want to bring home the Cup this year, and in order to do that, you and I can't keep pretending to ourselves that we hate each other. It’s much easier to be friends. But we can’t just be all out in the open about it.”

“We can’t?” Harry asked, finally finding his voice. 

Ginny stopped pacing and looked at Harry like he had sprouted antlers.

“Of course, we can’t, idiot!”

“Hey, if you want to be friends, a good rule is to not call me an idiot.” Harry said.

“Fine, sorry. I’ll just think it,” Ginny responded before sticking her tongue out. “We can’t be all open about this, _professor,_ because our families would make our lives hell.”

“Since when did you care about what Ron thinks?” 

“Oh, I could care less what that git says to me,” Ginny said, “but I’d rather not get a Howler from my Mum and all of my other brothers.”

“Well, what if I don’t want to keep our friendship a secret?” Harry said, standing up straight with sudden confidence.

“So you do want to be friends?” Ginny responded, her eyebrows wiggling.

Harry stared at her coolly, but his shoulders slumped forward, and he fell back into his chair. “So what if I do? Still doesn’t make sense keeping it hidden.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’m sure when your dad finds out he’ll be completely calm and understanding.” Ginny challenged. She had stopped pacing and was now staring down at Harry, mere inches from his face.

“Why do I want to be friends with you again?”

“Because I’m sweet and funny and ever so charming,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes and giving Harry the warmest, fakest of smiles imaginable. Harry stared at her, taking in the way Ginny now looked at him. It was new and scary, but also intoxicating. Harry knew it was an act, but he found himself inching closer to Ginny, as though put under some compulsion charm. Her smile faltered slightly, and her eyes went wide. But Ginny remained rooted to her spot. 

A loud bang from outside interrupted them and Harry quickly leaned back. “Ok, you make a fair point. But how would this even work? Being secret friends.”

“We’ll figure it out as we go along. I imagine since we’ll mostly be talking Quidditch, that could be a good cover to meet up. Tell everyone it’s just strategy meetings. I’ll set some up with the rest of the team too.”

Harry tilted his head and truly looked at Ginny, as if she was a puzzle he was trying to solve. “I don’t understand. Why all this just to discuss Quidditch more?”

“Quidditch is really important,” Ginny said, focusing on an empty corner of the room.

“Ginny,” Harry said firmly.

Slowly, she turned to him. Harry noticed her eyes darting around his face, his hair, his legs as though she was searching for something. Finally, her eyes settled on his.

“There’s no hidden motive with you, is there?” Ginny asked, but there was no questioning in her voice. 

Harry shook his head, though he wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. 

“So how about we meet a couple times a week and just… talk about stuff.”

“Where can we meet that gives us privacy?” Harry asked.

“Don’t worry, I know the secrets of this castle better than anyone.” She smirked and began to head towards the door. 

“Hope this isn’t one of your snogging spots,” Harry said cheekily.

“Oh, don’t worry. None of those boys knows about this spot.”

“Is that why you’re sharing your secret with me? Because I’m the only bloke in this whole school that doesn’t want to get into your knickers?”

Ginny stopped just as her hand touched the doorknob. She turned to look at Harry, her flaming red hair obscuring her left eye. 

“Oh, don’t worry. You will.” She winked at him with her unobstructed eye, opened the door and turned out of the room. Harry stared at the door for a moment before darting after her. But when he got into the hallway, she was gone. 

*******

As October progressed and the Scottish air chilled, Harry found himself in the unique position of loving Quidditch once again. Practices were fun, and he found himself falling into a comfortable rapport with his teammates, Ginny included. They had to be careful not to get too casual with each other, with Ron and Dean constantly glaring at him. For her part, Ginny was doing a rather poor job of hiding their friendship. She would regularly fly up to engage Harry in idle chatter, and he would catch her smiling at him as he practiced and perfected the Wronski Feint. Harry tried to engage more with Demelza Robins and Jimmy Peakes. He liked the younger teammates’ enthusiasm for the sport. They both were good, but not nearly at Harry or Ginny’s level. For them, Quidditch was about the sport and nothing grander. Which suited Harry just fine. As the first match of the season against Hufflepuff quickly approached, Harry felt at ease.

He began taking lunches with his teammates, minus Ron, Dean and Ginny. Neville still split his time between Harry and Ron. 

Hermione seemed to seek out Harry in the library, and he enjoyed her persistence in keeping him on task when Ginny happened to be in the library as well. It was during an early evening study session in the library when Hermione plopped down her bag across from Harry, who had several large books spread out before him.

“Honestly,” Hermione said breathlessly, “if Ronald doesn’t come to at least one study session a week, he’s sure to fail his N.E.W.T.S.”

Harry looked up from his notes to see Hermione dump an entire trunk’s worth of parchment on the table and smiled as she began to diligently collate the pages.

“Why study when he can just convince you to do the work for him?” Harry asked, earning a glare from Hermione.

“I can’t very well take the exams for him, now can I?”

“How many can it possibly be though? Is Ron even smart enough to take two NEWTS?” Harry joked. 

Hermione’s lips pressed tightly together, and her eyes narrowed. “Just because you have some stupid feud with the Weasleys doesn’t mean I’m going to allow you to insult my boyfriend.” 

Harry’s face grew red as the grin fell from his face. “Sorry,” he said, his eyes resembling that of a puppy who got caught with his head in the trash. Hermione softened.

“You know,” she began, “the two of you are a lot alike. If it wasn’t for your last names, I’d bet you’d be friends.”

It was Harry’s turn to get mad. “I have nothing in common with him, or with any of them.”

“Oh, come off it, Harry. I know you don’t really believe in this stupid feud. Besides, you like me, and I like you. Yet I also like Ron.”

“As you like to remind everyone so publicly and grossly.” Harry interjected. Hermione reached over and smacked his hand with her quill. “Ow!” he cried, rubbing the top of his hand.

“Oh, that didn’t hurt. And there is nothing wrong with displays of affection. My point is that you obviously like me as a friend and so does Ron. So you have that in common, at least.”

“Do you have to be so bloody logical about things?” Harry asked, rubbing his hair through his already-messy hair.

“I’m just making the point that I wouldn’t be friends with you if I didn’t think you were worth being friends with, and I wouldn’t date Ron if he wasn’t a good person at heart.”

Harry returned to his studying, intent on ignoring Hermione’s argument, but she pushed on. “You know, when I was a first year, I didn’t have many friends.” Hermione held her hand up to silence the impending joke Harry was about to blurt out. “But one day some Slytherins were giving me a really tough time and Ron defended me. Just him against four bigger boys. When I asked why he defended me, you know what he said?”

Harry stared intently at Hermione. “No.”

“He said we were Gryffindors and that made us family. And family sticks by family. Remind you of anyone?” 

Harry felt a lump of shame stuck in his throat. He was about to respond when a burst of light entered the library. Harry looked over and saw Ginny close the oaken door behind her, a large bag swung over her shoulder. Harry watched as she glided over to a table currently occupied by Neville and a blonde-haired witch with bulging eyes and dressed in odd robes. She took a seat between them, whispered something to the blonde-haired witch, and began reading her notes.

Harry’s eyes were still on her when Hermione suddenly moved her head, blocking his view.

“Did you hear what I said?” she asked. A small smirk played on her face, which Harry noticed.

“What?” he asked, as though he didn’t realize he’d been caught.

“I thought you of all people would resist the Weasley charm,” Hermione said as she began scribbling some notes with her quill.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said, his eyes darting around the room, searching for anything that wasn’t full of red hair.

“Fine, be that way. Just know you’re not being as subtle as you think.”

“And you’re not as subtle as _you_ think,” Harry retorted. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“Nothing, just that the corridors aren’t as secluded as you think they are.” 

Hermione turned a bright red, gave a short ‘hmpf’ and buried her nose in her notes. 

Harry grinned and began studying his Charms notes, barely noticing the library door swing open and then shut with a loud thud. But a few moments later, he was distracted by a familiar voice.

“Oh, come down, Madam Pince,” a deep voice said oozing with charm, “you know you miss me.”

“If I could go the rest of my life without seeing your nasty mug,” Madam Pince responded primly, “I’d die a happy woman.” 

“You wound my soul!” the man chortled.

“Dad?” Harry exclaimed, rising from his seat. Hermione’s head shot up and swiveled around to take in the sight of James Potter, his hairy terribly untidy, leaning causally next to Madam Pince’s desk.

“That’s your dad?” she asked, stroking her hair absentmindedly.

“Er, yeah, appears so,” Harry said.

“I can see where you get your looks from,” she said without thinking and immediately shot her palm over her mouth. “I didn’t…I mean it just slipped. Please forget I said that.” Hermione hastily gathered her notes, stuffed them in her bag, and fled the library. Harry hadn’t noticed and began walking to where his dad was shamelessly flirting with the octogenarian librarian. 

“I know you’re still mad I married Lily,” James said, casually twirling his wand between his fingers, “but it could never work between us and you know it.”

“You have three seconds to leave my presence, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pince said, “or else I’ll tell Professor Potter that her oaf of a husband is in need of a good caning.”

“Dad?” Harry interrupted. James turned and beamed at his son.

“Harry!” he launched himself at Harry and hoisted him off the ground. “How’s the best seeker to play at Hogwarts in a century doing?”

“All right, I guess,” Harry said, a slight pinkish tint forming on the tips of his ears. He glanced over at Ginny, who was engrossed in her work.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked.

“That excited to see me?” James responded with a wink. “I came to see you, of course, and your mum. Plus, there is some Ministry-related business.”

“At Hogwarts? What’s going on?”

“Can’t say. But you’ll find out very soon.” Madam Pince cleared her throat, and James gave an annoyed look in her direction before ushering Harry to a quiet alcove.

“So, Mum says you’re enjoying Hogwarts,” James said. “I’m glad, even if I wish _you_ would’ve written me a letter.”

“Sorry, Dad. In my defense, Simon, Rosie and have gotten radio silence as well.”

“Write your siblings, Harry. But seriously, things are going ok?”

“Yeah,” Harry responded with sincerity. “At first it was a little tough finding my way around things. But Neville’s here and he helped me find my feet.”

“Good,” James said. “Never underestimate the importance of a good friend or two. I’d gotten expelled from here if it wasn’t for Remus and Sirius. Who, by the way, are also quite offended you haven’t written.” 

“Fine, fine. I’ll skive off studying to write every person I know about all the dreadfully exciting things happening here.” 

“That’s my boy,” James said, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Mum hasn’t been on you to get this mop cut, has she?”

“No, as usual Mum has kept a respectful distance and the meddling to a reasonable level.” 

“She really is too good for us, you know.” James sighed wistfully. “How’s Quidditch coming along? “

Harry’s shoulders tensed. “Er, it’s ok.” 

“Just ok?” James looked at Harry with a sudden seriousness. “Captain not giving you issues, is he?”

“S-no, the captain has been great. Everyone has, actually. Bit bumpy at first, but they all came along.”

“Just wait till next year. They’ll make you captain for sure.”

Harry wasn’t quite so sure of that. For one, Ginny was the captain and had another year left. Harry doubted he could convince anyone to unseat her. She was also a truly great captain, excellent with strategy and the skill to back her talk up. The team loved her. Ginny was full of energy and a great motivator. And quite attractive.

Harry shook his thoughts clear. “Er, maybe next year. Either way, I’m enjoying my role.” James eyed Harry but then clasped him on the shoulder and they began walking towards the library entrance. 

“It’s really great to see you adjusting, Harry. This will be an amazing experience for you. Trust me.”

“I will, dad. You haven’t steered me wrong yet.”

“You’re still young,” James said with a sly smile on his face. He gave a quick once over of the room and suddenly his face fell as his eyes settled on a girl who was staring intently back at him. 

“So that’s Molly’s youngest,” James said coolly, his eyes not leaving Ginny’s. 

Harry gulped and stared at Ginny, as well. Her eyes darted slightly in his direction, and then she returned to her work.

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice cracking slightly. “That’s her.”

“You stay clear of that girl, Harry. She’s trouble.”

“She’s just a Weasley,” Harry said, hoping to tamp down his father’s reaction. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You’re wrong, son. You can see it in her eyes. Those are her mother’s eyes. And they can be quite dangerous.”

“Ok, Dad. I’ll keep my distance. Like I just said, you haven’t steered me wrong yet.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” James said, a smile returning to his face. “Just don’t tell your brothers and sister that. And if they say I told them they’re my favorite, well they’re just lying.”

James glanced at his watch and his eyes went wide. “Shoot, I promised I’d meet your mum.” He gave Harry a quick hug and left the library. Harry returned to his notes and began scribbling the correct incantation for the Bubble-head charm. After finishing, he chanced a glance at Ginny, only to find her looking in his direction. She blushed and returned to her notes. Harry decided right there that his dad was right; Ginny was dangerous. But in that moment, he couldn’t have been more intrigued. 

******

After finishing his studying, Harry dropped off his school supplies and headed down with Neville to the Great Hall for dinner. Upon entry, his eyes immediately found his mum and dad sitting closely together on the dais. James was laughing at something Hagrid had just said while Lily playfully smacked him upside his head.

Harry and Neville took two empty seats at the Gryffindor table and began loading their plates. Hermione eventually sat down near them, ensuring a space for Ron far enough away from Harry. She began to tap her fork on her empty plate, annoying all those around her. Harry was about to ask her to quit it when Ron and Ginny entered, followed several steps behind by Dean, Seamus, Lavender Brown and the Patil twins. Hermione ceased her tapping and pecked Ron on the cheek when he sat down. Harry noticed he looked rather grumpy, and then saw Ginny too had a sour look on her face. 

“Who’s that getting chummy with Professor Potter?” Ron asked as he loaded his plate with baked potatoes.

“Probably Mr. Potter, you dolt,” said Ginny. 

“More Potters at Hogwarts?” Ron cried out. “As if this place couldn’t get more stuck-up.”

“Ronald!” chided Hermione. “That’s uncalled for.”

“Yeah, mate,” Seamus added. “Weren’t you just saying how nice it was to have a fit professor for a change?” Seamus wiggled his eyebrows and Ron turned white. Hermione, meanwhile, was now turning red with rage. “We’ll discuss _that_ later.” she said with menace in her voice. Ron visibly gulped. 

Harry chose to ignore the comments about his mother and focus on the plate of food in front of him.

“They do look so cute together,” a bubbly girl named Lavender said with a loud sigh. 

Next to her, Padma Patil agreed. “Mr. Potter is looking especially cute,” she added.

“You lot think he’s good looking?” Dean asked with a stunned expression. All of the girls nodded, including Hermione and Ginny. This time it was Ron who turned red. 

“You too, Ginny?” Ron asked. 

“As far as one can look cute in those ugly glasses and disaster of a head of hair, I suppose.” Ginny took a serious appraisal of the man before turning back to Ron. “His eyes are all wrong.” She chanced a glance at Harry, who was now looking straight at her. “And he’s still a Potter.” She gave the subtlest of winks before returning to his food.

“What I want to know,” said Neville, “is what he and that other bloke are _doing_ here.” Neville nodded to a man farther down the table wearing a very formal looking robe, held together with an expensive-looking silver broach. His hair was parted down the middle and he reminded Harry of the patient from the game Operation. 

“Any idea why your dad is here?” Neville asked Harry.

“No, honestly. He just sorta showed up and said it was a surprise.”

The table fell into silence as they all began theorizing in their brains what was going on. As dinner wrapped up and the dishes were cleared, they soon got their answer when Dumbledore approached the lectern. He did not need to request silence as the entire Great Hall grew hush before he could even tap his wand for silence. He grasped each side of the lectern with his wrinkled hands.

“My, this is indeed a welcome change of pace,” Dumbledore said with a smile. As he surveyed the Hall. “No doubt you are all wondering who these two men seated at the table are. Forgive my rudeness for not mentioning it earlier in the meal, but today Hogwarts is pleased to welcome two distinguished alumni. First, may I welcome Bartemis Crouch, Sr, Senior Undersecretary for Magical Games.” 

At this, Mr. Crouch stood and gave a very formal half bow. Dumbledore began clapping and the student body tentatively followed.

“Bit of a stuffy bloke, ain’t he?” Harry heard Ron whisper to Hermione, who gave him a sharp elbow to quiet him.

“Reminds me of Percy,” added Ginny. 

Mr. Crouch, face stony, took his seat and Dumbledore returned his hands to the lectern. “And seated next to Professor Potter is her husband and one of my former, rather rambunctious students, now Head Governmental Liaison, Mr. James Potter.

James rose and gave a cheerful wave to the crowd, who gave an even more tepid response. James gave a puzzled look before shrugging and returning to his seat. Lily whispered something in his ear and a look of understanding and anger flashed across his face. James found Harry’s eyes, but Harry simply shook him off.

“I’m sure you are all wondering,” Dumbledore continued, “what these two esteemed gentlemen from the Ministry are doing here at Hogwarts. It is in a child’s nature to wonder impatiently, after all. Why, I remember a time in my youth where I would cross out the days on the calendar waiting for the latest edition of “The Theory of Transmutation in Bowtruckles” to be released. Such a splendid book and I surely encourage you all--“ 

A throaty cough interrupted Dumbledore and looked to see Professor McGonagall giving him a stern look. “Oh, right, please forgive the wandering mind of an old man. As I was saying, these gentlemen are here to help oversee something truly spectacular about to occur in these halls, something that has not occurred in over fifty years. I am speaking, of course, of the Triwizard Tournament.”

The Hall grew even more silent for a moment before exploding into a wall of shouts, cheers and shrieks. Some students began high-fiving while others talked loudly with their neighbors. Still, others shook in fear and hugged their friends in comfort. Harry Potter, meanwhile, stared at his dad with suspicion and slight rage.

Dumbledore put his hand in the air and the Hall grew silent. “As many of you are aware, the Triwizard Tournament is an exceedingly dangerous and difficult challenge comprising three tasks. These tasks will test a witch or wizard’s skill in numerous aspects of magic and sorcery. The winner will receive eternal glory, not to mention a thousand galleon price. But I must warn those who wish to enter; this is no mere test of ability. No, this tournament will test your will, your desire, your mind and most of all, your heart. I cannot stress the level of danger involved. As such, it has been decided that only witches and wizards who are of age shall be allowed to compete.”

The Hall once again erupted in shouts of protests.

“Silence!” Dumbledore bellowed to quiet the room. “Your safety is of the utmost importance to the faculty and the Ministry, and as such there shall be no more discussion of this matter. In a week’s time, students from two of our partner schools, Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, will arrive. At which point, the Goblet of Fire will be unveiled and those of age will have the opportunity to enter the tournament. The Goblet is an ancient magical item of advanced magic, so I implore those underage students who think they can fool the Goblet to not waste your time and energy. There shall be one Champion from each school. I must remind you that you all are representatives of Hogwarts and should treat our guests with the hospitality and respect this school is known for. I expect you all to be on your absolute best behavior.” Dumbledore appeared to give a pointed look in Ginny’s direction, but she seemed to decide her plate was extremely interesting. Dumbledore grinned. “Your Heads of Houses will be available should you have any questions.”

But this pronouncement did not deter Hermione from shooting her hand in the air anyway. “Ah, Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “I suspected you would not be delayed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hermione said, rising to her feet. “Will the Champion from Hogwarts be required to complete their exams?”

“An excellent question, and the answer is no. The Champion shall be exempt.”

The Hall again erupted in excited chatter. Hermione raised her hand once again. 

“Yes, my dear?” Dumbledore said.

“But does the person chosen _have_ to skip their exams?” Ron yanked Hermione down to her seat.

“Are you mental?” he whispered, but she ignored him.

“I imagine if the person selected wished to still sit their exams, they’d be welcome to,” explained Dumbledore. “I would never deprive a student of the opportunity to test their knowledge.” 

Hermione gave a satisfied smile. 

“Will Quidditch be canceled?” a boy’s voice rang from the back of the Hall. The crowd of students leaned forward eagerly, waiting for Dumbledore’s answer. But Dumbledore wore a confused expression.

“Why would I do something as foolish as cancel Quidditch over a few students?” he asked with a look of genuine puzzlement. A collective sigh of relief rang throughout the Great Hall.

“Now, then,” he continued. “It has been a long and exciting day and I imagine you all are eager to return to your dorms and go immediately into a night of calm and relaxed sleep. So, off you go and enjoy the year ahead!”

Every student in the Hall began fervently discussing the news, arguing over who they thought would be chosen and which schools would be joining them. A few boasted to anyone who would listen that they were sure to be chosen, and several fourth years were already devising plans to get around the age restriction. Yes, all the students were in quite a state of excitement. Save for Harry, who refused to take his eyes off his father. This was the crux of it all, Harry realized. James wanted Harry to come to Hogwarts so he could make him enter the Triwizard Tournament. His Mum had gone along with the rouse. Once again, Harry felt he was being controlled. Growing up as the youngest, Harry was accustomed to never being told the full story, just what he needed to know. Perhaps his parents felt the need to protect Harry. From what, he could only haphazard a guess. But whatever the reason, the result was the same. Harry was being controlled, and a familiar feeling washed over him. A feeling that his path in life was being laid for him. 

The students began filing out of the Hall, and Harry followed, his shoulders sagging. He glanced back at his parents. James was beaming at him as Hagrid thumped his dad on the back, causing him to tumble into the table beside him. His Mum gave a wave, but Harry could not bring himself to return it. He turned away from them and trudged out of the Great Hall, suddenly feeling rather upset.

*****

Hours later, Harry found himself on the 7th floor staring at a rather large portrait of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry was still listing the ways one might be made barmy when he heard the clopping of feet echo in the distance. He grew more excited as the steps became louder and quicker. 

At last, Ginny Weasley appeared from around the corner of the corridor. She was practically sprinting but slowed to a casual gait when she saw Harry. He glanced at his watch, a gold antique timepiece that belonged to his grandfather. 

“You’re late,” he said with a scowl, brushing some non-existent lint from his shoulder and hoisting himself off the ground.

“Barely,” she responded, chin raised. Harry’s face grew darker. Ginny rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, yanking him with her. “Oh, come on.”

She dragged Harry back and forth, casting glances at the blank stone wall.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“Opening the Room of Requirement. You need to walk back and forth three times while thinking of what you require of the room.”

“Oh, well that sounds perfectly sane.”

She shot him a look, but then stopped pacing when the outline of a large door appeared. The outline grew clearer and Harry found himself facing a rather large and heavy-looking door. Ginny smirked and pushed it open, dragging Harry behind her. 

Harry’s mood could not dampen his wonderment at the scene before him. The interior of the Room of Requirement was vast and filled with all sorts of activities. There were rows of board games, cards for Exploding Snaps, and snacks as far as the eye could see. Several comfy-looking lounge sofas were spread throughout the room, and Harry even spotted two Quidditch brooms and a set of balls.

“What is this place?” he asked, realizing he had been holding his breath since entering.

“Basically,” Ginny explained, “it provides whatever it is you might require of it. So in our case, it’s a place to hang out and have fun, so there are games and snacks and places to get comfortable.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said to himself.

“C’mon,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him over to a maroon sofa. “Ah, here we are.” Ginny pointed to several pieces of parchment on the floor rug under the sofa. She grabbed them and plopped herself on the sofa. 

“What’s all this?”

“Quidditch strategy guides,” she said, as she began to pore over the parchment.

“So we really _are_ going to discuss Quidditch,” Harry said, his voice low and sad.

“We don’t have to,” Ginny said, meeting his eyes. “There are loads of games we could play. Or we could just, you know, talk.”

“No, it’s fine,” Harry said. “Quidditch is important. You keep looking over those notes.” Harry walked over to the Quidditch supplies and lifted a quaffle. Suddenly, with great vigor, he chucked the quaffle against the stone wall. It bounced hard off the wall with a tremendous thud that echoed through the room.

The quaffle rolled gently back, stopping just before his feet. He picked it up and tossed it even harder. Dust exploded from the wall. Harry repeated this several times. Finally, as he was rearing back for another violent throw, Ginny appeared at his side and grabbed his arm. 

“Mind not destroying the room on your first visit?” 

Harry yanked his arm out of her grasp and huffed his way to the sofa, sitting down with thinly-veiled rage. Ginny followed and sat down next to him.

“You’ve been in a right strop since we got here,” she said bluntly. “Care to share?”

Harry fixed his lips shut and Ginny shrugged. She returned to her notes. Harry stared at her, practically imploring her to push him so he could rebuff her again. But Ginny merely hummed as she continued skimming the parchment.

Harry flopped back against the sofa in defeat. “Your parents ever try to control every aspect of your life?”

Ginny immediately tossed her notes aside and turned to face Harry on the sofa. “Oh, just about every bloody day of my life. Dad’s not too bad, but Mum is a real piece of work. I swear the woman wants me at home wrapped in hundreds of her Christmas sweaters. I think I’ll tell her I became a Quidditch pro after my first game. It’s the only way she’ll let me do it.”

Harry stared at Ginny in a bit of a daze as Ginny continued to rant. He knew she could talk, but this was something else.

“And being the youngest of seven,” she continued, “and the only girl, you never get a centimeter of freedom. It’s bloody insane and…” Ginny suddenly flew from the sofa, grabbed a stray quaffle and threw it with all of her might against the stone wall with tremendous thud, cracking it from center to floor. 

Ginny stared wide-eyed and turned to Harry, who was also standing in shock. “Sorry,” Ginny’s ears had gone red as her hair; Harry felt a familiar warmth pooling in his stomach. 

“Well, now that I sufficiently embarrassed myself, it’s your turn.”

“Oh, no, I’m ok,” Harry said, backing away from Ginny. 

“No way,” Ginny said, crossing her arms across her chest. “You’re the one who brought it up and then let me rattle on forever. Besides, I’m eager to hear how much of a ponce your dad is.”

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed, regaining his courage. “He’s only _slightly_ poncy.” Harry stared at Ginny for several seconds before they both broke into laughter. Ginny and Harry both collapsed onto the sofa. Harry wiped a tear from his eye before settling himself. “Look, he’s a great dad. And Mum is awesome. But they both think they know what’s best for me and what I should be doing with my life. Especially my dad. He has these… plans for me, it seems. Like I’m destined for something great. But what if I don’t want to be great?”

Harry stood and began pacing in front of Ginny. 

“Like this stupid Tri-Wizard Tournament. They didn’t even tell me about it. My dad runs the bloody tournament and he chose not to share that relevant piece of information when he was convincing me to come here. Because if he did, he’d know I wouldn’t come. And now that he is here, he’ll expect me to put my name in the Goblet.”

“Wait,” Ginny interrupted, “you have to be 17 to even enter so I doubt that’s why they convinced you to come here.”

“No, I turned 17 two weeks ago. I can enter.”

Ginny’s hand flew to her mouth. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not important. But that’s not the issue. The issue is my parents. It’s just like Quidditch. I can’t just play for me. I have to play for the glory, to go pro, to make him--“

But Harry cut himself off, remembering where he was. He sat back down on the sofa and stared intently at the stone wall which had red marks from the quaffle. He didn’t notice Ginny had scooted closer to him until he looked down and saw their knees touching. 

“It’s funny,” she said while looking into the distance. “How they both control us, yet in completely different ways. My mum and brothers would tie me in ropes to prevent me from entering the tournament.”

“Guess you and I are pretty different,” Harry said, leaning into Ginny. “Not surprising considering our families.”

“See, I view it exactly the opposite.” 

Harry’s face scrunched in confusion. 

“You don’t have to enter, you know.”

“And you don’t need their permission to do what you want,” Harry said, “but you’ll ask anyway, right?”

Harry noticed the way Ginny inspected his face, as if searching for something deep down inside of him that he wasn’t even sure was there. He saw himself reflected in her eyes, an image of fire dancing behind his own glasses.

“Enough of this emotional crap,” Ginny said with resolve, “Let’s have some fun.”

“Finally,” Harry said and the two began a game of exploding snap that lasted well into the night. 

*******

The weekend was drawing to a close as the sun crept below the Scottish mountainside, forcing most students into the warmth of the castle. Harry and Neville were walking back towards the Gryffindor dorms when an excited Hermione came rushing towards them.

“Did you hear?” she asked, bouncing on her heels. Harry and Neville shook their heads. “The boat from Durmstrang just arrived!”

“Now?” Neville said with alarm. “They weren’t due for hours!”

“I know,” Hermione shrugged and turned back to Harry. “Your dad and Dumbledore were already on their way to the Black Lake when I happened upon them. I heard them mention that Beauxbaton won’t be far behind.”

“Fantastic,” Harry said with a frown at the mention of his former school. Harry expected Beauxbaton would be one of the three. They were the most prestigious school on the continent. While most people would be thrilled to see their old friends, Harry was more worried that they would be cross with him for leaving them. Plus, there were a few students Harry really did not want to see again, and he was not mentally prepared to face them just yet.

Suddenly, Harry felt his arm being yanked out of its socket as Hermione dragged him and Neville back out of the castle. “What’s the big idea?” Neville asked, rubbing his shoulder.

“We don’t want to miss their arrival,” Hermione explained, a wrist in each hand. “I can’t wait to discuss the Durmstrang castle with them. Did you know its location is a mystery? No one even knows what country it resides in. They are completely isolated.”

“Are they still accepting transfer students?” Harry asked, and Neville suppressed a chuckle. Hermione shot a quick glare at him and continued towards the lake; Harry and Neville struggled to keep up.

It soon became clear that they were not the only students to hear the news. Half the castle stood out on an overlook that hovered over the Black Lake. Docked on the northwest edge of the lake was perhaps the largest ship Harry had ever seen. It was black, as though it had been burnt by a dragon. Three large black sails flew taut against the Scottish fall wind, revealing a red blazing emblem. It was, Harry later learned from Hermione, the Durmstrang Coat of Arms, meant to instill fear in enemies. Harry wondered why exactly a school would need to instill fear in anybody. 

Aboard the deck of the ship was a flurry of activity as dozens of wizards were shooting spells at the ropes and masts, swinging them around like vines from a tree. Soon the great black sails folded into themselves and then a large plank emerged from the ship, unfurling itself until it made landing on the shore of the lake. It was at that moment that a lanky man with long black hair and wrapped in a grey winter coat emerged. Harry could barely make him out, but he seemed in charge. Soon more wizards emerged, and they followed the man in a neat line off the ship. 

The Headmaster could soon be seen walking briskly towards the ship to meet the Durmstrang guests. He was followed closely by Harry’s father, Mr. Crouch, and Professor McGonagall, her tartan skirt whipping in the wind. 

At once, all the students began descending from the overlook and onto the grounds. As the mass moved closer to the lake and the visitors, Harry got a better view of the Durmstrang students. They were of a mix of features. Some were dark, with hair as black as Harry’s. Others were blond and blue eyed and quite tall. All wore heavy fur coats, which seemed prudent as the air seemed to chill significantly in the last hour. 

Dumbledore came to a stop at the foot of the ship’s plank, flanked on either side by James and Professor McGonagall. The tall man soon met the group, his students neatly aligned behind him. Harry maneuvered his way through the crowd, trying to hear what they were saying.

“Ah, Severus,” Dumbledore said with a smile, “once again, I am humbled by your punctuality.”

Harry got a good look at the man. His eyes were sunken, his nose pointy and hooked. His hair was the same color as Harry’s, but it was long, hung over his face and was unkempt and greasy. His lips remained firmly pressed as he gave a slight bow towards the Headmaster. 

“It has been too long, Albus,” he replied. “I have missed Hogwarts.”

“The Azkaban guards didn’t allow weekend Hogsmeade visits, Snivellus?” James Potter said, interjecting himself between Dumbledore and Snape. Snape scowled, and his hand immediately went to his side, where his wand protruded out from underneath his coat.

“James Potter,” he said coolly, “what a... pleasant surprise.”

“I see we’re just letting anyone enter Hogwarts,” James said, his voice palpable with anger.

“James, please,” Dumbledore said, putting himself between the two men. “The children are watching.” James quickly glanced to see the large crowd surrounding him, and sheathed his wand, which Harry hadn’t even seen him pull out. James turned to Dumbledore and leaned in close to his ear. 

Harry watched the two men talk, his father occasionally pointing aggressively at the Durmstrang Headmaster. Just as it seemed James was about to erupt, Dumbledore held up his hand. “We have discussed this matter to death, James. And I shall not entertain it any longer.” He turned back to Snape. “Now, Headmaster Snape. I trust you remember the way to the Great Hall. I shall leave you to your students.”

“I was informed Madam Maxime would be arriving shortly, as well, Headmaster.”

“Excellent!” Dumbledore said, clasping his hands together. “It seems the Beauxbaton students are as eager to arrive as you were.” 

As if on cue, a loud neigh could be heard from the sky. 

“Look!” shouted a young Hufflepuff boy. The crowd’s eyes darted to the sky and a small dot appeared. Gradually it became bigger. Soon Harry could make out a large familiar carriage pulled by a dozen beautiful winged horses. Harry was familiar with the spectacle; he had spent many school years being transported to the castle and back by the great winged horses and the powder-blue carriage. Harry only hoped Hagrid had some fine single-malt whiskey in stock.

The carriage gently touched down and came to a stop in front of Dumbledore. Two carriage doors outlined in an ornate gold frame opened, and out stepped a woman even taller than Hagrid. Madam Maxime, Headmistress of Beauxbaton, glided gracefully towards Dumbledore, her beautiful purple cloak swaying behind her like a pendulum. Her hair was short and fashionable. 

“That sure is a lot of woman,” Harry heard Seamus whisper and several boys nodded in agreement, their eyes all transfixed on the Headmistress. Behind her came the Beauxbaton students, all dressed in matching powder-blue robes. The boys wore a gold sash from shoulder to waist, while the girls were adorned with a cap with a pink feather jutting out from the side. Harry immediately recognized most of the students. Some were even his friends. Harry felt his stomach burn with anxiety. He had not truly considered that he would run into his old schoolmates. Harry had not given notice to anyone he would not be attending Beauxbaton, and he figured some would be quite sore with him. There were also a few particular students Harry absolutely loathed and was bemoaning the peace he was about to lose.

Madam Maxime embraced Dumbledore and planted a kiss on each cheek. “It iz so good to see you, my dear friend,” she said, giving his cheek an affectionate stroke.

“It has been far too long, Madam,” Dumbledore agreed, offering his hand to hers. She placed her palm in his and allowed Dumbledore to lead her towards the castle.

“Hogwarts gets more beautiful every time I see it. My horses--“

“Hagrid, our Keeper of Keys, has already seen to them. He’s filling the buckets with whiskey as we speak.”

“You have always been _un hote magnifique_!” Dumbledore blushed at the praise. Soon they had joined Snape, who looked wholly unimpressed.

“Ah, Severus,” Dumbledore began, “allow me to introduce Madame Maxime of Beauxbaton.”

Maxime eyed Snape coolly and he returned the sentiment. “It is a pleasure,” he said with a forced bow. “I look forward to our schools competing against one another for this _prestigious_ honor.”

“Likewise,” she said. “I have hopes we shall all conduct ourselves in a manner befitting _all_ wizardkind.” Snape sneered and called for his students to follow him into the castle. He strode purposefully, his coat billowing like a bat flapping its wings. But then, Snape came to a sudden stop. He was close to Harry, mere meters away, but he did not see him. His face grew pale, his eyes turning from cold to sad, as he came face to face with Lily Potter. 

For a moment neither said anything. They simply stared. Harry recognized the expression on his Mum’s face. It was one she wore often whenever his older brother, Jack, did something wrong. It was not anger, or sadness. It was more like… disappointment. Harry turned to study Snape’s face, as well. He couldn’t quite place it, but for some reason it reminded him of when Simon received a letter from the French Quidditch league. He remembered how nervous and hopeful Simon looked. Eventually, Lily broke the tension. “Severus,” she said with little emotion.

“Lily,” he began, struggling to find the words. “It’s so… It’s good to see you again.”

“I’m sorry I can’t share the sentiment. Please excuse me.” Lily brushed past Snape, bumping him in the process; Harry followed her as she went to James. She leaned into him, whispering something in his ear, and Harry noticed his father’s body visibly relaxing. Harry looked back at Snape, but he had already begun walking towards the castle at a brisker pace. His students struggled to keep up. 

In all his years, Harry had never heard his mum speak in such a tone. 


	7. Chapter 6

The castle was a constant hum of energy the next few days as the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton acclimated themselves. Due to the different coursework, the visiting students took their classes separately from the Hogwarts students; the only interactions the schools had were during meals and in the corridors. 

As expected, Harry had already had a run-in with a former classmate. Jean Pierre Montague could best be described as Harry’s chief rival at Beauxbaton. He came from a very rich family, which he was keen to announce in every conversation. An attractive, tall boy of blonde hair and grey eyes, Jean Pierre captained his Quidditch team and played seeker, much like Harry. Harry suspected the boy’s animosity towards him stemmed from how Harry bested him to the Snitch in every match they played. Jean Pierre loved the glory and the limelight and detested anyone who stole it from him. 

The night of their arrival, Jean Pierre had cornered Harry in the hallway with several of the French boy’s friends. 

“I thought that was you,” Jean Pierre said as he casually leaned against a tapestry depicting the great Wizarding Duel between Holdor the Terrible and Manuel the Deaf. Harry rolled his eyes at the sight of Jean Pierre, his perfectly coiffed hair in stark contrast to Harry’s, which was even more untamed after a particularly stressful Charms class. Jean Pierre’s eyes flew to Harry’s mane and he smiled, his face oozing with scorn.

“Jean Pierre,” Harry said, “here on another sightseeing trip your papa funded?”

Jean Pierre’s grin fell, and he pushed himself off the wall. His goons flanked him on both sides as he got right up in Harry’s face. “Just had to see for myself what a coward looks like.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, his face contorted.

“There were rumors why you transferred, you realize. Now it all makes perfect sense.”

“Clearly, I’m not as brilliant as you, so care to enlighten me?”

The smile returned to Jean Pierre’s face and his grey eyes lit up eagerly. “You’re scared, of course.”

Harry let out a deep laugh. “Scared? Of what? You?”

“What else could it be? You knew if you entered as a Beauxbaton student, the cup would pick me. And then poor Harry Potter couldn’t get the glory once again.”

“Are you that daft, Jean Pierre?” Harry said, his fingers curling into a fist. “I didn’t even know about the bloody tournament.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “Your dad is a judge. I’m sure he told you. I actually hope the Cup picks you. Wouldn’t be surprised based on the poor quality of competition they have in this disgusting school.” Jean Pierre shuddered as though the very idea of living in the castle was an immense insult.

“Look,” Harry said, his voice calm and even, “just stay out of my way and I won’t have to embarrass you like I did last year in the finals.”

Harry pushed past Jean Pierre and his goons and made his way to the Great Hall for dinner. Along the way, he spotted his mum trying to intercept him. Harry sped away from her and quickly grabbed a seat next to Neville.

It had now been nearly a week after their conversation, and Harry still had not spoken with his mum. He never raised his hand in class, and when Lily called on him, he always answered in short, one-syllable responses. His father had been absent from the castle for most of the week, spending an inordinate amount of time with Hagrid on the grounds by the lake. Harry would occasionally see his father in the distance gesturing wildly and laughing with the half-giant, mugs of ale in their hands. 

This all came to a head Friday afternoon during Potions. Harry was struggling mightily with his Amortentia potion, which was emitting a rather unpleasant sulfuric odor. He stirred the wooden spoon in his cauldron counterclockwise several times, counting to himself. _One, two, three, four…_

A hand grabbed his forearm; he stopped stirring and jostled the liquid.

“It’s supposed to be clockwise, Harry,” his mum instructed, her hand continuing to hold his arm, moving it in the correct direction.

“I can do it myself,” Harry snapped, and Lily quickly released his arm. Several students looked up from their cauldrons. Lily frowned, and her eyes narrowed at Harry. He couldn’t tell if she was more angry or sad, but neither was good.

“Detention, tonight at 7,” she said. Before he could argue, Lily had moved on to another student. Harry fumed for the rest of class, barely bothering to complete his assignment before eventually turning in a lackluster potion.

He spent the rest of the day in a strop, preferring not to speak to anyone during dinner. He even begged off a game of Exploding Snaps with Neville before trudging his way to detention with his mother.

“Don’t bother with the cauldrons,” Lily said as soon as Harry entered. She motioned towards a desk in the front of the room, and Harry took it. Lily moved to lean on the front of her desk, mere centimeters from her son. She looked at him closely. Harry’s hair stuck out more than normal, and his glasses were smudged with greasy fingerprints from dinner. “You look like hell.”

Harry reflexively smoothed his hair and straightened himself up. “Well, _you_ look--“

“Careful. I know you’re still angry at me, but don’t go insulting your mum now.”

“What do you want me to do?” Harry asked, unwilling to engage. “Pick the wings off a butterfly? De-slime the newt eyes?”

“Talk to me,” Lily said. Harry looked up in surprise. “I know you’re upset and would like nothing more than to never speak to me again. But I’m your professor. For your own academic future, I need you to talk to me.”

Harry sat in stubborn silence. Lily huffed. “Fine then. Detention every night for the rest of term.”

Harry’s eyes went wide, but his lips pressed firmer together. 

“And no quidditch,” Lily added. 

“But you can’t!” 

“Then talk to me!”

“Fine, you want me to talk?” began Harry. “How about you manipulating me to come here so I’d be forced to compete in some stupid tournament? How about you letting Dad try to control my life? How about never asking about what I want? Is that enough?”

“Is that what you think, Harry? That I’m-- I mean, _we_ are trying to control you?” Lily pushed off her desk and bent down in front of Harry. “All we want is you to be happy.”

“And you think you have me all figured out how to make me happy, don’t you?” Harry had worked himself up, his breathing labored. Anger radiated off his body.

Lily stared at her son, who was beet-red. She let her head fall. “Sometimes I think your dad and I forgot how much the war impacted us.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“We survived, but we had to put our lives on hold. You know your dad had dreams of playing Quidditch professionally, right? Well, the war put an end to that dream. I’m only now getting into teaching, something I had always wanted to do with my life.”

“But you loved the apothecary,” Harry protested. For a moment, he forgot he was supposed to be furious.

“I did, but it was more a job I could do in a foreign country while I learned the language. And you know how poor I am at languages. But the shop took off, so that dream got put on hold as another one flourished. I think your father always regretted not being able to pursue Quidditch. Hence why he has been so invested in Simon and your careers.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you both want me in the tournament.”

“No, I suppose not. Your father and I discussed this topic to death, quite frankly. And to be clear, Harry, I’m telling you this because I believe you deserve to be treated like an adult. That means you need to act as such. Understood?”

Harry simply nodded.

“Truthfully, I don’t want you competing. That’s the mother in me talking. The competitor in me knows you’d win. Your father agrees. He also believes winning this tournament will allow you to do anything you wanted.”

“Even if it wasn’t Quidditch?”

“Even if it wasn’t Quidditch. He’s not the monster you sometimes make him out to be. Your dad wants what’s best for you, and he’s right to think that competing in this tournament will open doors for you. But I know how stubborn you are. You are just like--“

“--Dad, I know. Everyone is always telling me that.” Harry grimaced.

“Actually, I was going to say me,” Lily said. 

This took Harry aback. He looked just like his dad, so Harry always hated that people then assumed he was like him in every way. To be fair, Harry admired his dad tremendously and knew being James Potter’s progeny wasn’t exactly a bad thing. But he wasn’t his father. And Harry wished more people were aware of that. 

“We’re both quite stubborn,” Lily explained, shrugging. “But we also don’t exactly seek the limelight, and we _hate_ being controlled. In this whole discussion about you attending Hogwarts, I forgot that about you. I’m not perfect, Harry. Just don’t repeat that to your father.” Lily winked. Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“Then why?” Harry asked. “Why agree to me coming here?”

“Because I’m very selfish.”

Harry’s mouth dropped. His mum could be called many things, almost all quite complimentary, and maybe a few less than ideal. But selfish was not one of those things.

“Don’t look at me like I ate a griffin,” she chastised. “I have been selfish, incredibly so.”

“Explain.”

“I missed you,” Lily said. She sighed and began pacing the room. “I know I’ve had years to become accustomed to my children leaving for school every year. But it kills me every time you took that carriage to school. And when I had the opportunity to teach here, I knew it was something I couldn’t miss. If I’d been so far away from you, I might’ve even missed Christmas. So your father came to me with the idea of you transferring to Hogwarts, and I agreed far too quickly. I’m terribly sorry, Harry.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. His mum had played a part in deceiving him, but he now felt guilty for not seeing her true intentions. 

“It hasn’t been that terrible, though, has it? I’ve enjoyed being near you, and I had a feeling you would take to this school.”

“Yeah. Eventually,” Harry admitted. Hogwarts hadn’t been great at first, but the school had been good to him. He finally felt that he had actual friends, not simply hangers-on. And the Weasleys, mortal enemies, were more bark than bite. _Ginny_ was--

Harry stopped the thought before it could take firm hold in his mind. “I get it, all right?” he said. “I’m still miffed about being lied to, but I suppose it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I mean, it’s not like I have to actually enter the tournament.”

“True,” his mum agreed. There was a beat between them. “If I asked you a question, would you promise to answer truthfully?”

“Sure.”

Lily closed the distance between them. “If your dad wasn’t pushing you so hard, and you weren’t a Potter but just a typical teenage boy, would you enter the tournament?”

“I--,” Harry began, but stopped himself. The truth of the matter was he’d never fully considered whether he actually wanted to enter. His participation was an expectation, not a choice. And that was the crux of the issue, wasn’t it? 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Lily gave a sad smile. 

“Think about what _you_ want, Harry,” Lily said. Her hand caressed his cheek before she gave it a pinch. Harry winced. “So are we ok?”

“Yeah. I’ll let you off this time.”

“Good. Make nice with your dad, too. He means well.” 

Harry scowled but nodded. He took his seat and looked expectantly at his mum. 

“What?” she asked.

“Don’t you have work for me?” he pressed. “Lines? Something for detention?” 

Lily tapped her finger to her chin. “No, you’ve learned your lesson. Besides, I have much better things to do then babysit you.”

“Like what?” 

“Your father should be around here somewhere,” Lily said casually. 

Harry made a face like he just sucked in a lemon. “Gross!” 

He darted from the room and made his way back to the Gryffindor common room, trying to push unsettling images from his mind. 

“Propriety!” he shouted at the portrait of the Fat Lady, who begrudgingly opened while muttering about the rudeness of teenagers. As soon as he stepped through the entry, Harry was bombarded by shouts and colors and confetti in the air. 

“Surprise!” yelled a chorus of Gryffindors. Harry’s friends were all around the common room. Hermione was beaming and holding a tray of sweets, while Ritchie, Jimmie and Demelza carried a birthday cake that probably looked like a Snitch, if one squinted hard enough. 

Harry stood open-mouthed at the scene in front of him. “What’s all this?” 

Hermione’s face grew stern and she put her hand on her hip; the tray of sweets now levitated. “Why didn’t you tell us it was your birthday?”

Harry’s cheeks went red. “No reason. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s your seventeenth birthday!” shouted Neville, who was carrying a present in his arms. Harry merely shrugged. 

“How’d you lot find out anyway?” Harry asked as he joined his friends on the sofa, pooping a mini treacle tart into his mouth. 

“Someone noticed your new watch,” Hermione said, “and then I confirmed it with Professor Potter.”

“Ah,” Harry responded, once again reminded that Hermione was incredibly clever. He glanced down at the watch his parents had gifted him before he left for school, a traditional gift for a wizard who comes of age. They had wanted to give it to him on his actual birthday, but James knew he wouldn’t be around. 

Harry spent the night talking and laughing with his friends. On several occasions, he noticed Ron and Dean playing chess in the corner. Ron threw the occasional scowl anytime Harry and Hermione talked.

“Still not my biggest fan, eh?” Harry asked Hermione as they sat on the sofa. Hermione was skimming through the Quidditch book that Neville had gotten Harry. She looked over at her boyfriend and glared at him. Ron looked back down at his chessboard, the tips of his ears glowing red.

“I doubt that will change anytime soon,” Hermione said glumly. “Just be glad he isn’t dragging me away.”

“I somehow doubt you’d stand for being told who you can and cannot be friends with.”

“And that’s why I love him,” Hermione said, a small smile playing on her lips. “As much as this annoys him.”

Harry spared a look towards Ron. Ginny had joined him and Dean. She was prodding her brother and trying to move the pieces for him, and he shoved her hand away from his castle. Harry watched intently as the pair shoved each other back and forth; suddenly, he wished he was with his own siblings. 

Hermione glanced in that direction and then nudged Harry, who had been silently staring.

“You’re hopeless,” she said. 

Harry did not immediately deny what Hermione had just said while he continued to stare at Ginny. There was something different about her, Harry could finally admit to himself. He had dated and been friends with other girls and none of them stirred those feelings in his stomach the way Ginny did. Harry could not define what this feeling was. _Surely it couldn’t be love,_ Harry thought. He was too young for such feelings. And you don’t fall in love with your enemy. But denying that this was _something_ had finally become too much for Harry. 

“I think you may be right,” Harry admitted, grabbing the book from Hermione and depositing it on the armrest. 

Hermione’s mouth formed an ‘O’ before becoming a huge smile.

“Oh, shut it,” Harry said.

“If you’re so gone for her, maybe ask her out? It’s what one normally does in this situation.”

Harry bit back a laugh. “Yeah, sure, and next you’ll tell me to take a thestral for a spin around the lake. No big deal.”

“Honestly, what exactly _is_ the big deal?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, which I know you haven’t since you’re _you_ ,” Harry said, earning a glare from Hermione. “She’s a Weasley and I’m a Potter. Our families don’t exactly get on. Bit tough to plan a wedding when no one would show.”

“Already thinking about a wedding?” Hermione grinned and Harry gave her a playful shove. “This rivalry is stupid. You know that. Don’t let it stop you from going after what you want.”

“Easy for you to say. The hatred runs over a hundred years. I’m not willing to lose my whole family over some girl I fancy. Besides, I’m still a Potter and Ginny still hates Potters. Don’t need to give her any more ammunition by getting rejected."

Harry grabbed his Quidditch book and rose from the sofa. He turned to Hermione, still seated. “Just…don’t say anything to anyone, ok?”

Hermione nodded and smiled. “Of course not.”

Harry turned and started to walk towards the stairs to his dormitory when Hermione’s voice called out. 

“Oh, Harry. What time is it?”

Harry looked down at his birthday present. “About a quarter to ten.”

“Thanks. You know it’s a really nice watch.” Hermione then turned and looked towards where Ron, Dean and Ginny were playing chess. Ron and Dean were still engrossed in their match, but Ginny was looking intently at Harry, her eyes wide and face a bit paler as the dancing flames bounced off her cheeks. Ginny’s eyes narrowed before turning to Hermione, who merely shrugged and pulled out a book from her rather oversized bag. 

Harry turned and continued up the stairs, wishing for the hundredth time that week that he could understand girls a bit better.

The weekend ended far too quickly and with it brought the official beginning of the TriWizard Tournament. The halls of the castle were abuzz with anticipation. Students could be heard debating what the tasks would be, who they thought would be chosen from each school, and most importantly, whether exams would be canceled. 

The noise reached a crescendo on Monday evening as students from the four houses, plus Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, filed into the Great Hall for dinner. Mountains of roasted potatoes and legs of chicken piled high on the tables, but most were too anxious to eat. 

Finally, once all the treacle tart and crème brulee was finished, Professor Dumbledore rose to the lectern. The Great Hall grew quiet immediately. 

“Normally I would be disturbed by such silence, but tonight is a special night deserving of such peculiarities.” With a flourish of his wand, the large doors to the Great Hall swung open as if they were as light as a feather. Every head in the room swiveled to see something floating in the doorway. A black cloak hung over the hidden object, reminding Harry of the Dementor he recalled seeing in his Defense textbook just the other week. Dumbledore gave another subtle flick of his wand and the black mass slowly moved down the Great Hall toward his lectern. Eyes eagerly followed it, alit with wonder at what could be under the cloak. Finally, the mass came to a stop just in front of Dumbledore.

He gave a quick glance over the room before smirking and muttering an inaudible incantation. Suddenly, the black cloak flew into the air, revealing the Goblet of Fire.

The Goblet was rather simple looking as far as goblets go. It was a dull gold with several copper buttons on its base. It lacked any ornate jewels or even a shine. All in all, one would be forgiven for being unimpressed. Most of the students had perplexed expressions, and some outright snickered at the modest cup. Harry too looked a bit let down. He searched for his father, who was not looking at the Goblet, but rather right at Harry. James had a mischievous look on his face, which further confused Harry until he mouthed ‘wait for it.’ Sure enough, Dumbledore began waving his wand in an erratic manner and muttering more incantations under his breath.

Suddenly a burst of blinding light shot from the Goblet. Everyone turned away to avoid having their eyes blinded, and when they looked back, the Goblet was spewing turquoise blue and bright orange flames. The flames rose to twice the length of the Goblet itself, nearly tickling the House banners hanging in the rafters above. 

“The Goblet of Fire,” Dumbledore began, “is an ancient magical relic passed down from some of the greatest witches and wizards to have ever walked the soil. It is enchanted with numerous magical protections to avoid tampering or other malfeasances, as well as an Age Line to prevent ineligible students from entering. Any student at least seventeen years of age may enter the Triwizard Tournament by simply writing their name and school on a slip of parchment and tossing it into the cup. Do not worry about the flames, for they cannot hurt you. I must warn you, though, that any student attempting to circumvent the age restriction to enter the Tournament will find themselves in a most unfortunate situation.”

Despite the seriousness of the message, Dumbledore grinned. “Students may enter any time between now and Friday evening, at which point a Champion from each school shall be chosen. Now, the evening is growing as old as I am, and you all have a full day of learning and excitement ahead of you. So off to bed you all must go.”

The students did not move but instead began chatting furiously. Eventually the faculty had to physically usher them out of the Great Hall and towards their dorms. Harry was shoulder to shoulder with Neville and Jimmy Peakes as they made their way into the Common Room. 

“Think you’ll enter?” Neville asked Harry as they found two empty seats in the corner.

“Not sure,” he responded, and in truth, Harry wasn’t. “What about you?”

Neville rubbed the back of his neck. “Doubtful.”

“Why not? You’d do well. Got as good a shot of any of us.”

“You think so?” Neville’s eyes grew wide with hope.

“Of course,” Harry said. “Better shot than me.”

“Thanks. I still don’t think I’ll enter. You’d be bloody insane to, you ask me.”

Harry and Neville both broke into laughter, but it was soon stopped by a loud commotion that had entered the common room. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and a few others had just entered and taken up residence in the middle of the room. Ginny flung herself on the sofa, only moving when Ron aggressively pushed her aside to make room for Hermione and him. Dean and Seamus found themselves on the floor, breaking out a game of Exploding Snap.

“Mum’s going to kill you when she finds out,” Ginny said, twirling a strand of red hair between her fingers.

“She’ll only find out if I get picked,” Ron said. 

“Still can’t believe you’re going to enter.”

“Why?” Ron demanded. “Don’t think I have a chance? Bet you’d be singing a different tune if Bill or Charlie entered. Or even the twins.”

“Ron, Ginny didn’t--“ Hermione began, but Ginny cut her off.

“Get your head out of your ass, you git!” she shouted back. “Of course I think you can do it. Might even win. I just know Mum will kill you before you even have the chance to get killed in the tournament.”

“Oh,” Ron said, his cheeks growing pink. “Well, like I said. She’ll only find out if I get picked.”

“I’m really proud of you for entering, Ron,” Hermione said, cozying up into the crook of Ron’s arm. Ron allowed her easier access and gave a broad grin.

“Well, being a Triwizard Champion will look great for getting a decent job, right?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m sure you can’t wait to use it to get a job measuring cauldron’s like Percy.” 

“Not everyone can be a Quidditch pro,” Ron bit back and Ginny flung a pillow at him. She put a bit too much into the throw as it glanced off the top of Ron’s head and landed at Harry’s feet. He picked the pillow up and brought it over to the couch. 

“Might want to rethink those Quidditch dreams, Weasley,” Harry said. 

“That so, Potter?” Ginny asked. “And what about you? Entering the Tournament to reclaim the family pride?”

“What?” 

“No way a Potter gets chosen for Hogwarts,” Ron added. “This isn’t even your school.”

“Ron!” Hermione shouted.

“At least I have the talent to get chosen,” Harry retorted, his nostrils flaring.

“Do you?’ Ginny asked. “Only talent a Potter has is being able to fit their huge egos through the door. Face it, Potter. There’s no way the Cup would choose you over a Weasley for school champion. The Weasleys ARE Hogwarts. You’re just some passerby.”

Harry fumed but could not muster any words in his defense. Is that what she really thought? He had only been at Hogwarts for about a month, but Harry genuinely felt like a part of the school. Now it all seemed wrong. And then Ginny crossed a line.

“How disappointing will Dad be when you don’t get chosen? Must be a shame for James Potter to come all this way for his son to let him down. I bet you don’t even enter, Potter. Easier to let him down by not entering than by not getting picked.”

“That’s enough!” cried Hermione. But it was too late. Harry stood, silently staring at Ginny as her cocky smile began to falter. Neville put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, but he just shook him off. After a pained beat, Harry ripped his head away and resolutely marched up into his dorm. Seconds later he was back downstairs, clutching something in his hand. He stomped past Ginny and out of the Common Room. 

The halls were empty save a couple students lounging in the courtyard around a conjured fire. Harry walked with purpose, his footsteps echoing into every empty classroom on the floor.

Eventually, he found himself swinging open the doors to the Great Hall. It was silent and dark except for bright blue and orange flame at the other end. For a second, Harry stared in awe at the flame, but then his mind became resolute and he strode directly towards the Goblet. Once he got there, Harry opened his palm to reveal a small slip of parchment. On it was his name and his school. Hogwarts. Underlined twice, with thick strokes. Harry stretched his arm out and let the parchment drop from his hand. It disintegrated into the flame as if it never existed.

Harry turned and walked away from the flame, his steps now faint and wary, and wondered what in the world he had got himself into. 

*******

Harry avoided Ginny the next two days, which proved surprisingly difficult. She seemed to have a tracking charm on him. Once, Ginny tried pulling him into a secluded room, but Harry shook her off and ran to catch up with some Quidditch teammates. Practice that Tuesday evening was not much better. Ginny kept trying to talk with him about the upcoming match with Hufflepuff. Harry simply gave one-word responses and flew away to search for the Snitch. The tingly sensation he felt in his stomach whenever she was near had turned into more of a burning feeling, which reminded him of when he was younger and Simon would tease him.

Finally, Wednesday evening came, and Harry was scheduled to meet Ginny at the Room of Requirement for their weekly meet up. But Harry deliberately avoided the 7th floor, choosing instead to play wizarding chess with Neville. 

Neville had just lost his third game in a row. “Well, I’m knackered with losing so much. I got Herbology homework anyway. Professor Sprout is a terror. If I never see another essay on Mandrakes, I’ll die a happy man.”

Neville stood and offered a hand to Harry, but he shook him off. “I’m going to stay down here for a bit. Enjoy the quiet.”

Neville shrugged and headed up to the dorms. Harry moved to the window ledge and peered through the panes. It had stopped raining hours ago, but he could still feel the familiar chill of an Autumn rainfall penetrating the common room.

Harry’s head turned at the squeaking sound of the portrait opening. There stood Ginny, a furious look on her face. Then, before he could say another word, she met his eyes, marched over, and gave him a shove just as he was moving to stand. Harry fell back onto the stone ledge.

Hey!” he yelled.

“Hey yourself!” she responded icily. “You deserve more for standing me up like that.”

“Do I? I thought it was appropriate after what you did.”

Ginny crossed her arms. “So you admit you’re mad at me for something.”

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Harry crossed his arms. “I don’t need to explain myself to you, _Weasley_.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re mad about?”

Harry uncrossed his arms and violently ran his hands through his hair “Of course! God you’re so frustrating.”

“I’m frustrating? This was the whole plan, wasn’t it? We keep up appearances of hating each other.”

“Yeah, but you took it too far! I told you that stuff about my parents in confidence. Not for you to use it against me. That stuff you said about my dad was right out of line.”

“But--“ Ginny started, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Her anger vanished. To Harry’s surprise, it was replaced with something far worse: shame.

“You’re…you’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.” Harry saw Ginny bite her lower lip and look away.

“What are you doing?” Harry looked utterly perplexed.

“What do you mean?” Ginny said. “I’m apologizing.”

“But you never apologize. You’re so stubborn.”

Ginny quirked her brow. “Do you want me to take it back?”

“Uh, no, of course not. Just not really sure why it’s happening.” 

Ginny took a step closer to Harry, who had let his arms drop to his side. “Look, I get having issues with your parents. And I know how tough it can be when they want you to have some other life for yourself. I guess I just forgot it in the moment. But the idea that I used that against you makes me feel like shit. So... I’m sorry.”

Any anger Harry had left his body as he took Ginny in, her body suddenly so small. He didn’t know why. Only seconds ago, he’d been consumed with fury towards Ginny Weasley. But at that moment, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for him to close the distance between them and pull Ginny into his chest. They had never hugged before, or even touched beyond a tug of the arm. But here they were, two enemies raised by hatred of a name, now as close as two people could possibly be. 

Harry laid his chin atop Ginny’s red hair. He felt her tense slightly at first, before squeezing him tightly, her arms barely reaching around his back. They stayed like this for several moments, or maybe it was several hours, before Ginny finally broke the silence. “Glad the room is empty. Otherwise, I’m not sure how we’d explain this one.”

Harry chuckled. “Sticking charm?” 

Ginny laughed and released Harry from her grasp. Harry reluctantly did the same.

“So, where did you storm off to the other night after our” --Ginny made air quotes--“fight?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, which suddenly felt quite warm. “Er-- I sort of put my name in the Goblet.”

“You what?” Ginny practically shrieked, and Harry quickly clamped his hands over her mouth.

“Shh! You want to wake the whole school up?”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, it was a bit of an out-of-body experience, but yeah, I definitely entered.”

“How do you feel about it?” Ginny asked.

“Honestly, since I entered, I haven’t really thought about it. There were other things on my mind.”

Ginny looked away. “Oh, right.” She returned her gaze to Harry. “So you’re really going to do it then?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, the realization finally washing over him. “Looks like it. But honestly, I doubt I’ll get picked. You guys are right. I’m not really a Hogwarts student, being here only a month and all.”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Ginny said, throwing her hands up. “Please don’t listen to anything I’ve ever said. You’re a student here right now, right? That makes you a part of Hogwarts just like any Weasley.”

“Thanks for the welcome. Still don’t know how to feel about it all.”

“Scared, Potter?”

“Terrified,” Harry whispered. There was no joking in his voice.

“Smart to be. I’d be freaking out.”

Harry smirked. “Weren’t you the one wishing you were of age to compete?” 

“Yes, and what of it? Doesn’t mean I would be anything but terrified. That means it’s worth doing, though. If it terrifies you.” 

“Hmmm, never thought of it like that.”

“Well, then aren’t you glad you have me as your advisor.”

“Advisor?” 

Ginny stood straight and puffed out her chest. “Sure. You’re way too daft to do it on your own. You need someone with brains, and Hermione won’t be able to help.”

“Why not? And aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves. I’m probably not getting chosen.”

“First off, you’ll definitely get chosen. Too good a story not to. And second, that means that my brother won’t get chosen and will be a right git about it. So Hermione won’t be able to help you out as she needs to be on Ron’s side in the inevitable shit storm coming.”

“Wow,” Harry said, in awe of Ginny’s mind. “You are definitely the brains then.”

“Good,” she said with a bright smile. “I’m going to turn in. You coming?”

“You go on ahead. I’ll be up in a bit.”

Ginny gave him a quick hug and departed, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. He was glad to know that his fear of the tournament was normal. And he was glad that his row with Ginny was behind them. He thought about their hug and what it meant. Harry was used to being touched; his family was rather affectionate. And he had been hugged by a girl before. Hermione had only yesterday hugged him for helping her with her Defense homework. But this felt different somehow. More…intimate. Harry decided it was simply his little crush rearing its head. Surely Ginny did not see it as anything more than two friends hugging. It was one thing to be friends with a Potter. But Ginny would not be as pathetic as he was, getting a crush on someone who she couldn’t be with. 

And there it was. Harry realized in that moment that he needed to squash whatever this was between him and Ginny. Being friendly was one thing. But anything more would be a disaster. But Harry was strong. He knew he must move past these silly feelings he had for her. It wasn’t a choice. Few things in his life ever were. It was settled, he decided. Harry would end his crush on Ginny.

Harry suddenly grew tired and began to climb the stairs to his dormitory. He changed into pajamas and settled himself under the covers to beat back the crisp chill in the evening air.

_It sure is tiring to lie to yourself,_ Harry thought inexplicably before drifting off to sleep.

The next few days passed in a blur. Before Harry knew it, Friday evening was upon him. If the previous Monday unveiling of the Goblet had created a stir amongst the student body, Friday was a virtual riot. Several students had come straight from their last class of the afternoon to the Great Hall, lugging their books with them as they scurried to get front-row seats for the selection ceremony.

The Hall was mostly filled by the time Harry arrived. He squeezed in between Demelza and Katie Bell, a 7th year Chaser, not bothering to fill his plate with food. His stomach was doing backflips; Harry figured eating was a lost cause. Harry’s nerves were further intensified by the looks his father kept shooting him. James was practically giddy with anticipation and kept giving Harry a thumbs up. 

Harry wasn’t positive if he was more nervous to get picked or to not get picked. On one hand, the tournament promised to be incredibly dangerous. Harry enjoyed the occasional risk but putting his life on the line was still a scary thought. On the other hand, he worried about his dad’s reaction if he didn’t get chosen. It wasn’t that James would be angry with Harry. On the contrary, he would likely be incredibly supportive. Too supportive, in fact. Harry could envision his dad ranting to Hagrid, a firewhiskey in his hand, of the injustice of his son not being chosen. His dad’s disappointment, however, would be tough for Harry to stomach. While most of the anger he felt towards him had vanished after his talk with his mum, Harry still hadn’t spoken with his dad because of both being simply too busy. Harry didn’t want their first conversation in over a week to start on a sour note. 

But if Harry really thought about it, he didn’t believe he’d be chosen. Putting aside whether he was deserving, he had only been a student at Hogwarts for one month. Surely the Cup would take that into account and pick someone with a deeper connection to the school. Maybe if he was still at Beauxbaton, he would have been chosen. But then again, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have entered if he still was in France. The more Harry thought about it, the less worried he became. Ginny’s comments two days ago had been welcome, but not entirely realistic. 

Harry was shaken from his thoughts by a haughty, piercing laugh. He turned to see Jean-Pierre casually strolling down the corridor between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, flanked by other Beauxbaton students Harry knew all too well. A gaggle of girls trailed a step behind him. Jean-Pierre came to a stop right where Harry sat.

“So, Harry,” he began in a thick French accent that Harry didn’t remember being quite so pronounced, “word is you have entered the tournament, non?”

“Seems so,” Harry said.

Jean Pierre leaned down over Harry, causing both Demelza and Katie to scoot a bit away. “I too have entered, but of course you knew that.”

“No, must not have gotten the owl post announcing it.”

Jean-Pierre sneered. “Surely if you knew, you wouldn’t have tried. No bother, I highly doubt you will be chosen. The Cup only chooses wizards of the highest talent.”

“Better hope it doesn’t know about your Arithmancy grades then,” Harry quipped. Jean-Pierre turned beat-red; Katie snorted into her pumpkin juice.

“I look forward to humiliating you, Harry.” Jean-Pierre abruptly turned and stalked away, his hangers-on struggling to keep up. Suddenly feeling lighter, Harry helped himself to some Shepherd's Pie and engaged Neville and the others in a lively discussion on who they thought would get selected from Hogwarts. Harry noticed Ginny and Hermione both trying to engage Ron; he’d barely touched his food and kept staring longingly at the Goblet.

Eventually, as the plates were vanished away and the last of the sweets swallowed, Dumbledore once again rose to address the attendees. 

“The moment you all have been waiting for is finally upon us. The selection of the school champions and participants for the Triwizard Tournament is about to commence. Be warned, however, that once your name is chosen, that student is magically bound to compete. There is no going back after this. Let us begin. But first, a few words.” An audible groan went out from the student body and Dumbledore gave a sly wink in the direction of James and Lily Potter. The faculty all burst out laughing, except for Severus Snape, who was seated at the far end of the table next to Madam Maxime. 

“Ah, forgive the humor of an eccentric old man.” The student body let out a collective sigh of relief.  
“Now, then, let us choose our champions. When you hear your name, please come forward and stand next to our judges.” Dumbledore motioned to James and Barty Crouch, who were now standing in front of the stage. Dumbledore stepped down from the lectern and walked around the Goblet of Fire, the flames seeming to grow even more vibrant with color. He waved his wand in an intricate pattern and suddenly a bright purple flame shot high in the air. A small sliver of parchment shot from the flame and towards Dumbledore, who grabbed it out of the air. “From Durmstrang, our champion is Hilda Ericson!”

A cheer erupted from the Hufflepuff table where the students from Durmstrang sat. Harry saw a tall blonde-haired witch rise, her red cloak covering her broad shoulders. She was large for a 17-year-old witch, Harry thought, but her eyes were kind and her face youthful. Her plaited hair reminded Harry of a muggle brand of hot chocolate his mum enjoyed. 

Hilda seemed calm, as if this was fully expected; she didn’t even wear a prideful smile as she walked past Harry and towards the stage and disappeared behind a door to the right of the dais.

The Goblet wasted little time spewing more flames as Dumbledore mimicked his earlier wand movements. Out came another slip of parchment. “From Beauxbaton…Jean-Pierre Montague.”

Harry’s groan was drowned out by the cheer emanating from the Slytherin table where the Jean-Pierre sat. He was already out of his seat walking towards Dumbledore as his friends thumped him on his back. Even several Slytherins, including a platinum-haired boy, applauded and tried to shake his hand. Harry caught Jean-Pierre’s eyes, who smiled widely at Harry. Harry returned the smile with a two-finger salute right as Jean-Pierre disappeared behind the door to join the other Champion.

The noise died down the moment the door closed. An eerie hush fell over the Great Hall. It was time for the Hogwarts Champion to be crowned. Students inched to the edges of their seats, as though summoned with hovering charms. The Goblet spewed bright orange and blue flames, swirling higher and higher like a growing tornado. 

Harry glanced over at his fellow Gryffindors. Ron was practically standing, and Hermione was holding onto his robe for dear life. She had not entered herself, telling Harry she was too focused on Head Girl duties and NEWTS, but her eyes contained a mixture of hope and fear. Harry’s eyes passed over to Ginny. She was not looking at the Goblet, but rather right at Harry. Their eyes connected for the briefest of moments before Ginny turned to look at the flames, which suddenly erupted with a burst of orange and red, swaying back and forth. While he had seen the flames before, something about the colors felt pleasantly familiar to Harry.

A tanned piece of parchment leapt from the flames and began its gradual descent, floating lazily towards Dumbledore’s outstretched palm. Suddenly visions swam in Harry’s mind. There he was, hoisting the Triwizard Cup in triumph as his friends carried him on their shoulders. He looked down as Neville smiled brightly up at him and Jimmy and Ritchie whooped and shouted his name. The idea of being champion suddenly consumed every inch of his being, and Harry wanted nothing more in that moment to be chosen. To be seen as a champion in his own right, and not for who his parents were. And then the image in his mind changed to Ginny, running towards him with a blazing look in her eyes. Harry imagined her leaping into his arms and him dipping his head down to meet hers and lips--

“Harry Potter!”

Dumbledore’s booming voice brought him from his daydream. He looked up towards the elderly professor, whose expression was unreadable apart from the slightest grin. The Hall was silent, save for the loud clapping of James Potter. He wore the widest smile Harry had ever seen. 

Harry looked to his mum, hoping for some explanation, but her face, creased with worry, told him everything he needed to know. Tentatively, Harry rose from his seat and made his way towards Dumbledore. He chanced a few glances at his fellow students and couldn’t help but notice the scowls. Ron’s face was particularly red, though Harry was unsure if it was from embarrassment or anger. 

As he approached the dais, Harry gave one last look back, hoping to catch a sympathetic face in the crowd, but if it was there, it was hidden. He came to a stop at Dumbledore’s side. The professor gave Harry a reassuring pat on the back and ushered him to the room where the other champions waited. 

_Well, bollocks,_ Harry thought right before he stepped through the door. Then, everything changed. 


	8. Chapter 7

To say Harry was having a bad week was like saying the Chudley Cannons were having a bad season. He could not remember a worse week in his life, and that included his first week at Hogwarts. After being chosen to represent Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament, everyone had started treating Harry like he had spattergroit. His fellow Gryffindors were outwardly hostile, which told Harry that their loyalties would always fall on the Weasleys’ side. But even students from other Houses were treating Harry quite rudely. In Muggle Studies, a Slytherin pelted him with wet parchment and a Ravenclaw hexed him with a spell that caused his tongue to roll down to his toes. It was only when Professor Weasley admonished the class in a surprisingly stern voice that the harassment stopped. Even his quidditch teammates Ritchie, Jimmy, and Demelza refused to sit near him at meals. 

Ron and Dean were far and away the worst. Every time he passed them in the Halls, they whispered ‘cheat’ in his direction, loud enough for everyone to hear and snicker. Ron’s eyes seemed glued to Harry. Every time he chanced a look in Ron’s direction, he saw the boy glaring menacingly at him.

Harry couldn’t even be that mad at Ron, if he thought about it. Ron wanted to be chosen, to achieve eternal glory. And as much as it pained Harry to admit, the Weasley children were all accomplished witches and wizards. Bill was a successful cursebreaker; from what Harry could gather from James’ work stories, he was renowned for his skills that his name was commonplace even in the French Ministry. Charlie, the colossal git, was the head dragonkeeper in Romania. Even Harry was impressed by that. Fred and George, who during their school years had relentlessly tormented Harry’s sister Rosalynn, ran a successful joke shop that had recently opened a second location in Hogsmeade. And Percy, who Harry knew little about, was a former Head Boy and now some high-up in the British Ministry. Lastly, there was Ginny: Quidditch Captain and probably the most popular witch in school. Harry found himself feeling a bit sorry for Ron. After all, he knew what it was like having older siblings to live up to. Regardless, that didn’t keep him from wanting to punch his rather long nose every time an insult was lobbed in his direction.

Harry was immensely grateful for Neville and Hermione during his week from hell. Despite the rest of the school hating him, Neville and Hermione remained steadfast in their support. Neville took it as his personal mission to get in between Harry and any other student who was spoiling for a fight. Harry would have preferred handling it himself, but Neville explained that he didn’t need a month’s detention on top of everything else he was dealing with. 

Hermione, meanwhile, used her position as Head Girl to stave off the worst of the abuse. She personally confiscated a huge box of buttons that read ‘Potter Stinks!’ and reprimanded any student caught wearing one. This alone did not stop them, but when Hermione started taking House Points, other students got the message and the insulting buttons soon disappeared. 

“Honestly,” Hermione huffed one day during breakfast after scolding a Hufflepuff fourth year for shouting something obscene in Harry’s direction, “you’d think you were You-Know-Who the way everyone is behaving.”

“At least they never said those things to his face,” Harry said, shoveling eggs into his mouth. He glanced down the Gryffindor table towards where Ron and Ginny were sitting. “How’s Ron treating you?”

“Don’t get me started on him. Apparently, I’m being _disloyal_ for not throwing these eggs in your face.” 

Neville, who was sitting next to them, snorted up his pumpkin juice. Harry, meanwhile, looked rather dour. “I’m sorry about all this,” he said. 

“Nonsense,” Hermione responded. “We know you and your dad didn’t cheat. Logically, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Right,” Neville agreed. “’Sides, we’re not going to just chuck you. You’re still a Gryffindor.”

Harry felt a surge of warmth at his words. Half of the school wanted to burn him at the stake and the other half wanted to feed him to a Basilisk, but the fact that Neville and Hermione supported him meant more than he could put in words. He remembered two years ago when he’d failed to capture the Snitch during a match and his house snubbed him for a whole month, even those he’d thought were close friends. Harry realized that he never knew what it was like having a true friend until this very moment. Suddenly, all the insults and hexes did not matter in the slightest. Harry was unable to stop the wide grin that spread across his face.

“Well, that’s something I haven’t seen in a week,” Hermione said, smiling herself. 

“Can’t a bloke be happy?”

“A bloke?” Neville asked. “Sure. You? Bit of a surprise, is all.” The trio burst into laughter, startling several nearby classmates. Together they began to discuss what the first task might be, forgetting the world around them for at least a meal.

After lunch, Harry headed down to the dungeons for his Potions lessons. He was running early for a change as the classroom provided a welcome reprieve from the endless taunts and jeers. As he pushed open the door to the Potions classroom, Harry was confronted by his mum and the Durmstrang Headmaster Snape in a heated discussion. 

“Please,” Snape said, “just give me two minutes to explain--“

“Explain what?” Lily interrupted. “There’s nothing to explain. You need to leave.”

Harry ducked behind the wooden door so that only his right ear was visible.

“I never stopped caring for you, I swear it!”

Harry heard his Mum snort. “Funny way of showing how much you care for your friend. What? Don’t think I’d remember after all these years what you called me? Mud--“

“Stop it! How many times can I apologize for what I did as a child?”

“There you go again, Sev. Excusing away your actions. You’ve never been sorry for what you said, who you became. You’re just mad you could never have what you always wanted.”

“That’s not true. My intentions have always been pure.”

“Is that so?” 

Lily went silent, and Harry waited for an answer that did not come. After a long pause, Lily laughed again. “Did you really think I could just forgive and forget? Go back to how it was when we were kids? You’re right. You were just a boy when you destroyed our friendship the first time. But what you agreed to do for your precious Voldemort all so you could have your reward. You were of age, Sev. Dumbledore might have forgiven you, and certainly that school of yours could care less of your crimes. But James and I will never forgive -- and certainly not forget. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a class to teach.”

Harry then heard the scraping of a chair and footsteps approaching fast. He thought for a moment of hiding behind the door, but this Snape had clearly riled his Mum, and Harry would not stand for that. He swung open the door right as Snape passed under the door frame. The two nearly collided in a heap of black robes. But Harry stood firm and tall, staring directly into the black eyes of Severus Snape. The man looked intently at Harry, briefly scanning his hair before settling on his green eyes. Harry did not know why he stared so intently at him; all he felt was revulsion. 

“You must be Harry _Potter_ ,” Snape said with a sneer.

“And you must be someone my mum has now asked twice for you to leave her classroom.”

Snape’s lip curled and he opened his mouth to reply. But again, his eyes became focused on Harry’s and his expression softened. “Very well.” He pushed past Harry but turned to face him. “You look just like--“

“His father,” Lily interjected from across the room. “ _James_.” 

Harry smirked at Snape, whose pale face went red. He turned quickly, his cape flapping like a bat as he stalked away. Harry turned back to his mum.

“Right. I think it’s past time for an explanation.”

Lily slumped down into the chair behind her desk and rubbed her temples. “It was a long time ago, Harry. During a very difficult time.”

“Seems like it still hurts. Maybe you should get it off your chest to make you feel better?”

Lily raised her brow. “Since when did you get so smart?”

“Since you became my professor.” 

Lily smiled at the comment and motioned Harry to the front row of desks. He took a seat and leaned forward.

“You know the role your father and I played in the war. Well, Snape was on the other side.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to be surprised, and his hands tightened around the desktop. 

“Before that,” Lily continued, “he was a student at Hogwarts, in the same year as James and me. And Remus and Sirius and Peter. Not only that, Severus and I were friends… best friends, in fact.”

“You and him were _friends_? But he’s a greasy git!”

Lily laughed. “Yes, I suppose even as a teenager he was rather greasy and gittish. But I actually met him when I was around 9 or 10, before Hogwarts. He was the first wizard I ever met and made me feel normal, for once. But that’s not important. To make a long story short, we were great friends growing up, but Severus was always drawn to the Dark Arts. He was a Slytherin and had some friends who were a bad influence. We grew apart, what with me being a muggleborn and a Gryffindor. Severus started saying some truly awful things about muggles and even started talking Voldemort up as if he was an equal of Dumbledore. Then, when our friendship was already on its last string of thread, he called me a mudblood when I tried to protect him from James and Sirius.” Harry felt indignant rage on behalf of his mum.

“What were they doing to him?” Harry asked, trying to control his anger.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Just teasing. James and Severus loathed each other. Even more than I loathed James at the time.” She winked at Harry. “But after that moment, I cut Severus off for good. And then the war started in earnest and things got far worse.” Lily looked off into the distance at this moment. As Harry was about to ask for more details, several students entered the classroom. “There’s more to the story,” Lily said in a hushed voice. “But perhaps your father can tell you the rest when he has time. The two of you haven’t spoken much since your name was picked. Not that James hasn’t tried. It wasn’t his fault you were picked, Harry, despite what some students might say. Understood?”

“Yes, Mum.” 

“Good,” Lily said, rising from her seat to address the class, who had by now all entered. “Today we will be continuing our lesson on Amortentia. To your cauldrons, everyone!”

Harry went to his cauldron, his Mum’s words swirling in his head. Truthfully, he wasn’t too upset with his dad. But with everyone accusing Harry’s dad of rigging the tournament selection, Harry felt it best to avoid him for the time being. But now that his mum had dangled a juicy piece of information about the war against Voldemort, Harry suddenly had a strong desire to find his dad.

Harry began to cut up some worms when he chanced a look in Ginny’s direction. She had not really sought him out after his name was chosen. Harry knew it was just Ginny being careful. He was not the most popular person to be around, and it would look awfully odd for a Weasley to be anything but hostile towards him. Still, Harry couldn’t help but feel a slight sting in his chest as he turned back to his cauldron and began adding rose thorns. Harry inhaled the faintest scent of something flowery before beginning to stir.

It turned out that Harry did not need to wait long to find out the rest of the story his mum had begun. He was walking alone down the 3rd floor corridor when he quite literally ran into his dad turning the corner. 

“Oi!” he shouted before realizing who he had run into.

“Oi, yourself,” James said, adjusting his robes. “Figures this is how we’d meet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, rather gruffly. 

“We haven’t exactly seen much of each other, son. And I think I know why.”

“Look, if this is about the tournament, Mum already explained things to me, and I forgive you.”

James looked at his son, who now stood level with his dad. “Well, then. That’s good to hear. I am sorry, though. I shouldn’t have tricked you like that. Merlin knows how pissed I’d be if my father pulled what I pulled. But I’m only looking out for your best interest. You know that, right?”

“Yes. But maybe start letting me figure out what’s best for me for a change? I’m of age, dad. I need to be able to choose my own path.”

“Agreed,” James says, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “But you’ll always be my boy. Sort of the penalty for being the youngest.”

Harry laughed as James ruffled his hair. Harry responded in kind.

“Look at us.” James beamed. “Two untamed Potter men. The ladies won’t know what hit them.”

Together the pair walked down the corridor, James regaling Harry with tails of Hagrid’s recent adventures into the mountains. As they approached the staircase, though, James’ pace slowed. At the top of the staircase, he held Harry back.

“Your mum tells me you’ve been getting some grief about being picked for the tournament.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Harry said, standing a little taller. 

“I know, but I can’t help but feel this is my fault. I honestly never considered how it would be perceived, me being in charge and you getting picked.”

“Me neither. I kind of just did without really thinking.” In truth, Harry entered mostly out of anger, but he decided not to bring up to his dad exactly what angered him enough to enter.

“Potters have always been forced to answer for our parents’ successes. You wouldn’t believe how many people thought I made the Gryffindor squad just because my dad bought me the most expensive broom. I had to work twice as hard to be taken seriously. The Potter name has always been a tough legacy to live up to. But it’s even harder when it’s used to downplay your own achievements. Silly way to behave over a name, isn’t it?”

Harry bit back a retort and merely nodded in agreement. 

“So I was talking with your mum and we both agreed to give you as much space as you need, lest people think I’m giving you unfair advantages. Ok?”

Harry thought for a second before shaking his head no. “Sorry, Dad. I don’t care what people think. I’m not going to stop being a family over it. It’s not what a Potter would do, would it?”

James beamed at his son. “No, it certainly wouldn’t!”

The bell chimed in the distance. “I have to go to my next lesson.” He gave his dad a quick hug. “See ya, Dad.” Harry skipped down the stairs, a weight seemingly lifted off his shoulders. It never occurred to him that he forgot to ask his dad about Snape.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of classes and meals and library study sessions. Before Harry knew it, the first match of the Quidditch season was only a few days away. After that quickly came the First Task, and Harry was still dumbfounded as to what it could be. Contrary to what most of the student body thought, Harry’s dad had not given even an inkling of what it would entail. 

In the days since his name was called, Harry had said nary a word to Ginny. They were in most of the same classes, but Ginny seemed to go out of her way not to be partnered with him. She barely acknowledged him in the hallways, and every time he entered the Common Room, he heard her make some excuse to her friends and depart up into her dorm room. 

While Harry barely interacted with Ginny inside the castle, he assumed he’d have ample time with her on the pitch. The Quidditch pitch was their space, the only area where they could converse openly. But even though Ginny had upped their practice time to every other day ahead of the big match against Hufflepuff, Harry found that he still could not get more than a word in with Ginny. He would make an extra effort to fly near her and engage in conversation, but Ginny would simply ignore Harry and instead direct her energies towards the others. He did notice Ginny shouting more than normal, though he chalked it up to nervous energy ahead of their match.

Even though Harry understood why Ginny was acting so cold, there was only so much he could take. So it happened that the Tuesday before the game, Harry decided to have his worst practice ever. He was slow to the snitch and frequently flew in the path of his teammates, causing them to dive out of the way on several occasions. He even allowed himself to fly directly in the path of a quaffle, soaring towards the goal. Every mistake he made was a desperate attempt at a response. Harry wanted Ginny to scream at him, tell him off for his piss-poor effort, but Ginny merely pretended he was like a fly to be shooed away. 

He then decided desperate times called for desperate measures and made a sharp u-turn on his broom. Harry pointed the tip of the broom right in Ginny’s direction and accelerated. Ginny was hovering in the air, shouting instructions in the direction of the two beaters. Harry slowed slightly but kept his course, moving closer to Ginny from her rear. Ginny had a quaffle in her hand and was about to toss it to Demelza when Harry plowed into her, causing Ginny to drop the quaffle below. As she struggled to maintain her seating, she turned to Harry. Her face was beat red, but the scowl on her face told Harry it wasn’t flushed with exhaustion. 

“What the bloody hell, Potter?” Ginny shouted, causing several nearby teammates to stop what they were doing and stare.

Harry righted himself on his broom and flew closer to Ginny, who was still readjusting her shin guards. “Sorry, had to get you to talk to me somehow.”

Ginny scrunched her face. “Oh, right.” She turned to look at her teammates staring at the two of them. Turning back to Harry, Ginny leaned in closer. “Let’s talk tonight. Usual time.”

“Why can’t we talk now? We always talk during practice.”

“Look, it’s just with Ron--“

“--Screw Ron,” Harry interrupted, his voice rising. “I could also use a friend to talk to, you know.”

Ginny stared at Harry while idling on the broom, her feet dangling carelessly in the air. To Harry, she had the same look as when deciding between treacle tart and toffee pudding for dessert. Eventually, she smiled.

“Here I was thinking you liked the whole loner vibe.”

Harry gave the slightest grin in return. “Well, it does come in handy from time to time.”

“Plus, it gives you this mysterious aura. Very sexy.” 

Harry gulped and turned pink. Ginny glanced back at the squad, who had all resumed their practice. “I suppose I have been playing the supportive sister role a bit too heavy-handed.”

“You’re too good an actress,” Harry said.

“Is that so? I always wanted to be on one of those shows my mum is always listening to.” Ginny’s face suddenly became very serious, her eyes narrowing. “How could you, Harry?”

“Er, how could I what?”

“Cheat on me with Scarlett, that hussy!” Ginny cried dramatically, clutching her chest. “You told me I was the only one for you!” 

Harry stared at Ginny in utter confusion before she burst into a fit of laughter. Realization dawned on Harry and he too began to hoot as Ginny continued to mimic a scorned lover. Suddenly, a scream was heard below; Harry and Ginny both turned to see Jimmy Peakes hanging off his broom, one arm clinging to the bristles.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Fun’s over. I better make sure they catch him. Meet you at seven tomorrow, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Harry said. Ginny winked and flew off to help Ritchie keep Jimmie from plummeting 15 meters. Harry followed her movements, in awe of how gracefully she moved through the air like a leaf on a breezy fall day. He was so engrossed that he completely missed the bludger that torpedoed into his side, nearly launching him off his broom. He regained his balance and immediately began rubbing his abdomen where the bludger connected. Turning, Harry saw Ron flying in the opposite direction towards Ritchie and Jimmie. He passed a bat back to Ritchie, took a glance back in Harry’s direction, and sped off. Harry grimaced and returned to his pursuit of the elusive Snitch.

Despite a bruised rib and a student body determined to make his life miserable, Harry found himself in high spirits on Wednesday. He was engaged in his classes, joked during meals with Neville, and even found time to meet Hermione for a quick study session. After dinner, Harry was walking back with Neville, discussing the upcoming match on Saturday. Ahead of them walked Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. As Neville began discussing the latest chaser tactics of Puddlemere United, Harry began to stare as Ginny’s hair danced back and forth like a rekindled fire. 

“Harry,” Neville said, but Harry didn’t hear him. “Harry!” he shouted, finally grabbing Harry’s attention.

“What?” 

“You hear what I said? About a game of chess when we get up to the common room?”

“Oh, right. Sorry mate, can’t. I got a meeting tonight.”

Neville shrugged and the pair fell back into conversation. As they continued to walk, Harry noticed Professor Dumbledore chatting in the hallway with a rather burly-looking man. His back was turned to Harry but there was something incredibly familiar about the man’s orange hair.

“Charlie?” Ginny shouted ahead. “ _Charlie_!” 

She broke into a run and launched herself at the man, who wore a huge smile. He gripped Ginny and swung her around three times before putting her down. Ron soon joined the pair and gave the man a half-hug.

“Blimey!” Charlie exclaimed. “You lot got so big!”

“Been months since we’ve seen you,” Ron said with a lopsided smile. “Come meet Hermione. She’s brilliant!”

Harry had stopped in his tracks as he took in the family reunion. But he was not merrily watching the scene of familial bliss. No, Harry was watching in blind fury. His hands were clenched so hard that if he shoved a lump of coal in them, he’d make a diamond.

Neville cowered slightly behind him. “You ok there, mate?” 

Harry did not respond, but rather grew in his anger. Finally, he turned to Neville.

“I’m going to see my dad.”

“Why?” asked Neville.

“To tell him Charlie bloody Weasley just showed up.” And with that, he stormed off.

Harry made his way to his mum’s living quarters on the opposite side of the castle, assuming his father would be with her. Sure enough, when he knocked on her door, James answered.

“Harry!” he said. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit.” James narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t blow something up, did you?”

“Charlie… bloody… Weasley!” Harry breathed, his face getting redder with each word. 

James merely nodded and ushered Harry into Lily’s room. She was grading papers at the desk in the far corner.

“Told you he’d show up,” she said without looking up from the stack of parchment in front of her.

“That you did,” James responded before turning to Harry, who had taken a seat in the small kitchen. 

“I take it you knew?” Harry asked.

“Seeing as I’m running this bloody tournament, yes. The Ministry requested him specifically, and there was nothing I could do about it. Believe me, son, I’m no happier about this than you. But my hands are tied.”

“What does he have to do with the tournament?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t say. It would give you an unfair advantage.”

“Everyone already thinks you’re helping me,” Harry said in a huff. “Might as well take advantage of it.”

“Spoken like a Slytherin,” Lily said with a grin before returning to her grading.

“Can you talk to Dumbledore?”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” asked James, running his hand through his hair. “Face it, Harry. That pompous arse is going to be around for at least the next week or so.” 

Harry was still too enraged to consider his father’s words. All he absorbed was that he’d have to see Charlie’s face for a while still. Of all the Weasleys, Harry hated Charlie the most. The same held for his brother Simon, who had the most cause to despite him. From many overheard conversations between Simon and his dad, he knew his dad held similar contempt for Charlie. Lily admonished Harry not to pick a fight, reminding him that there were now three Weasley children and just one Potter. 

After discussing some Quidditch tactics with his father, Harry eventually left his mum’s living quarters, having calmed down enough to collect his thoughts. He glanced down at his watch and noticed it was nearly seven. His spirits suddenly lifted, Harry ran up to the 7th floor and to the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Harry paced back and forth, waiting for Ginny to arrive. He checked his watch again: seven fifteen. _She must have been caught up in something_ , Harry surmised. But soon the minutes grew and so did Harry’s impatience. He tried keeping himself busy in the corridor. While slumped against the wall, Harry recited every charm he could think of. He started listing every Puddlemere United starter. Finally, Harry took one last glance at his watch: Eight. It was decided; Ginny had stood him up. 

He pushed himself off the wall and dusted the stone mist from his robes. As he made his way back down towards the common room, Harry resisted the urge to yell. It was true he had been looking forward to their meeting all day, that it was the perfect antidote to an otherwise awful week. But she had not been there for him when he needed it most.

 _That wasn’t fair_ , Harry thought. _It’s not Ginny’s responsibility to make you feel better. She probably got caught up with seeing Charlie. It’s his fault, really. He’s always been selfish. No, Ginny had done nothing wrong._

Harry tried his best to believe this. But he couldn’t help but be peeved at Ginny for standing him up. If they could have more time together and weren’t forced to hide their friendship, it wouldn’t have mattered as much. But they _were_ forced. And so it _did_ matter.

Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, muttering the password _repudium_ to the Fat Lady. 

“No need to be so down on a beautiful night like tonight,” the Fat Lady said.

“How the bloody hell would you know that?” Harry bit back.

The Fat Lady frowned. “I hear things.” The portrait opened up and Harry stepped through into the common room. He glanced around the room, hoping to catch sight of Ginny. But she was noticeably absent, as was Ron. Harry found Hermione reading a book on the couch and took the seat next to her.

“Hello,” she said. Harry grunted in response and sunk into the couch. “Rough night?” 

“Something like that,” Harry said. “So where is…Ron?”

“Oh, he and Ginny are with Charlie. They were so excited to see him that I told him he should skip our study session.”

“You told him he didn’t need to study?” Harry said, earning a light smack on his arm.

“Of course, I did. He was so happy to see Charlie, it only felt right.” 

When Harry didn’t respond, Hermione put her nose back in her book.

Harry thought about what Hermione had said, and he felt some of his anger leave. Because as much as it hurt to be stood up, he also never offered to reschedule so Ginny could be with her brother. He was too busy telling his father how awful the world could be. Harry realized there was not much point in getting mad at Ginny for missing one of the few opportunities where they could act like friends, especially since he wasn’t acting like a good friend in the moments they did have.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” he said as he rose from the couch. He bade Hermione a good night and climbed the steps to the dorm room. 

The next day, Harry was determined to not let last night’s events, or lack thereof, further sour his mood. At breakfast, he was eating some porridge and poring over an old Quidditch manual his brother Jack bought for him when he felt someone bump him from behind.

“Watch it, Potter,” Ginny said as she kept moving down to the end of the Gryffindor table. Harry gave her a confused look as she walked away. But Ginny turned and motioned with her eyes to the floor below. Harry looked down and saw a small slip of parchment. He picked it up and read:

 _Sorry about last night. Meet me at nine tonight in the common room_ -G.W

Harry looked back at Ginny, but she was now sitting and laughing with Ron, Hermione and her other friends. He smiled to himself as she tossed a roll at her brother. The sun penetrated the stained glass in the Great Hall, and the heat warmed Harry’s face. He decided that it would be a glorious day. 

The Gryffindor common room typically was a hub of activity until around 8 at night, as students played games or finished essays at the last minute. Tonight was no exception. Harry was a bundle of nervous energy and tried to distract himself by playing chess with Neville. 

“You alright, mate?” Neville asked. Harry, who was biting his lip, looked up.

“Course. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve lost four games in a row to me, and I’m bloody terrible. Where’s your head at?”

Harry glanced at the stone staircase. “On the match this Saturday.”

Neville shrugged his shoulders and returned to the chessboard in front of him. Gradually, students trickled up to their rooms. Hermione had her weekly patrol, but Harry smirked when she left the common room, tugging Ron behind her. After the fifth win in a row, Neville claimed exhaustion and left Harry, as well. Soon, he was the only Gryffindor left. Harry fixed his eyes on the staircase, hoping to catch a glimpse of shoes coming down. He was surprised, then, when the portrait swung open at precisely 9 o’clock and Ginny entered. She found Harry sitting on the sofa looking at her, and she smiled.

“You’re punctual,” she said as she walked over. She extended a hand and hoisted Harry off the sofa. 

“I should have known you weren’t upstairs studying like a proper student.”

“Ugh. I think the last proper Weasley student was Percy. Do not compare me to him.”

Harry laughed. “Noted. But why are you just coming in now?” Harry asked, his voice a bit higher than normal, as if worried about the answer.

“Needed to make sure the coast was clear for tonight,” Ginny said as she led Harry back towards the common room entrance.

“We’re going back outside? What about curfew?”

“I always thought that was more a suggestion than a rule.”

“I like the way you think,” Harry said as they exited the corridor. 

The castle was eerily quiet, with not a sound to be heard save Harry and Ginny’s soft footsteps. Even the ghosts seemed to have retired for the night. 

“But seriously, where were you coming from? And where are we going?” Harry asked.

“It’s a surprise. But to your first question, I had to make sure the path was clear and where we were going was set up.”

“Hermione’s on patrol tonight,” Harry began before pausing for a moment, “with Ron.” If he thought that might worry Ginny, Harry was sorely mistaken.

“Why do you think I chose this time to leave?” Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Hermione and Ron like to shag during her patrols so we should have a clear path.”

“Gross,” Harry said, wrinkling his nose. “Ugh, now I have an image of his pasty, freckles arse in a broom closet.”

Ginny covered her mouth. “Shhh! Don’t make me laugh.” They walked together in silence for several meters. “Though, if it’s in a _broom_ closet,” Ginny eventually said, “Ron better protect his arse from an unwelcome intrusion.”

This time Harry had to cover his mouth, but he couldn’t stop the tears from escaping his eyes. Miraculously, their laughter did not arouse any professors and soon the pair were outside the gates of the castle. The air was especially chilly, and Harry could see his breath escape into the night sky. He bundled his robes closely around himself. He glanced at Ginny who seemed to be unbothered by the cold, except for her nose and ears, which had turned bright red.

Harry dutifully followed Ginny onto the grounds, down the hill, and past Hagrid’s hut. But Ginny stopped him before the edge of the Forbidden Forest. 

“I need to ask if you’re ok to go in,” she said in a hushed voice.

“Of course I am,” Harry said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Loads of people are scared to enter the Forbidden Forest. No telling what you might run into.”

“But you’re not scared?”

“Oh, Hagrid has brought me in for enough detentions that I’m numb to what lies in the dark depths of the forest.”

“Well, sounds like fun to me,” Harry said as he started forward. Ginny stood still for a moment before hurrying in after him.

“You don’t have to be brave, you know. It’s ok if you want to go back.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not scared. I’m with you.” 

Ginny grinned and the pair kept moving deeper into the forest.

“You’re not showing me one of your snogging spots, are you?” he asked, trying to keep the mood light. 

“You’ll see soon why I brought you here,” Ginny said, before adding “and my snogging spots have fewer spiders.”

“But still some spiders.”

“Well, can’t have Ron barging in on me, can I?” Ginny said, her pace quickening. In the distance, Harry saw a flash of light. They must be getting close, he surmised. Soon more flashes of light followed, along with several shouts. Harry’s back tensed but he kept following Ginny. He was scared, but also excited to be experiencing a new part of Hogwarts. As he stepped over fallen branches and under massive spiderwebs, Harry considered the fact that the school was still rather foreign and unexplored. At Beauxbaton, the school was incessantly bright, even at night. Whether it was spending so many years there or just the charms of the grounds, there were no secrets left to uncover. Here, at the Scottish castle, every dark corner and secluded alcove presented a new opportunity of discovery. The Room of Requirement, for example, remained one of the most impressive feats of magic Harry had ever encountered, and it was all thanks to Ginny. And now, as the full moon emerged from behind the clouds to illuminate his face, Harry felt grateful that Ginny was taking him on another new adventure. 

Harry was brought out of his thoughts by the loudest sound he had ever heard and a huge burst of flames. An evergreen tree about 15 meters to his left lit up in fire as its needles dropped like arrows to the ground. There, before Harry, was a dragon tied to a post in the middle of an expansive clearing. It looked as long as the Great Hall, and despite still being far away from them, Harry could still make out the shimmering green scales of the beast. The tail was curved, with tremendous spikes on the end. The dragon’s head also had several sharp spikes and smoke emanated from its nose. It blew another fireball in their direction, the heat reaching them from across the clearing.

“Blimey,” he shouted, though it came out as a whisper.

“Come,” Ginny coaxed him. As they made their way closer, Harry soon realized the great dragon was tied in dozens of ropes, surrounded by even more witches and wizards.

“Come on, ya lass!” cried one of them with a rather pointy hat and singed robes. “Calm down, will ye? We won’t bite.” 

A few other wizards raised their wands and shouted a stunning spell at the dragon. They all connected in between its eyes and the dragon slumped over, its belly expanding high in the air before collapsing again. 

“What is all this?” Harry asked.

“Dragons,” Ginny explained. “They’re the first task.”

Harry looked at her, stunned. “How do you know that?”

“Well, why else would they be here?” 

“Fair point. But are they mental? We have to fight a dragon?”

Harry heard several more stunning spells and then heard two loud thuds. He followed Ginny to a large boulder, which provided them good cover. There, Harry saw two other dragons slumbering. Both were massive but still noticeably smaller than the first dragon he’d seen. 

“How’d you find out about this?” he asked Ginny.

“When my brother came,” she began -- and Harry instinctively scowled-- “I figured it out pretty quick. Why else would a dragon tamer be at Hogwarts? So I hounded him to show me where they were being kept as soon as he arrived.” 

“Ah, so that’s why you missed our meetup!” Harry felt a sense of relief wash over him.

“Figured it was worth missing one meeting if it got you a leg up on the competition.”

“Smart one, you are.”

“I’ve been known to have a good idea or two,” she said, checking her nails. 

“Isn’t this… you know, cheating?”

“Oh, please. My brother said the headmasters from Durmstrang and your old school have been down here loads, always asking about the dragons and how to subdue them. I’m positive the yodeling Amazon and the pretty-boy Frenchie know about the dragons by now.” 

Harry scowled at how Ginny described Jean-Pierre but soon broke into laughter as Ginny grabbed her hair at both ends and started yodeling rather poorly.

“Shh!” Harry implored. “You’ll get us caught.”

Harry and Ginny spent the next several minutes whispering about the first task and how dragons played a part.

“I hope I don’t get the Hungarian Horntail,” Harry said, pointing at the largest of the dragons. 

“Aww, but he’s so cute!” Ginny gushed.

“Cute? That thing’s got horns sticking out of both ends!”

“So? Horns can be cute. You ever see--“

Ginny’s words were cut off when out from behind one of the dragons appeared the three school headmasters, Professor McGonagall, James and Mr. Crouch, Hagrid, and finally, Charlie. Harry and Ginny ducked behind the stone, and then carefully peered over it. Hagrid was standing slightly in front of James, and Charlie stood on the opposite end of the group near McGonagall.

Neither Harry nor Ginny could make out what was being said, but soon a commotion broke out between James and Charlie. Shouts soon followed, and it was only upon the booming voice of Dumbledore commanding silence that the two ceased. 

“What’s that git playing at?” Harry almost shouted, earning a glare from Ginny.

“By git, I assume you mean your father, right?” The two stared daggers at each other for a moment before Harry’s expression softened and he stood up. 

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand. “It’s getting late. We should head back.”

Silently, Ginny allowed herself to be led away from the circus.

They were nearly out of the forest when Ginny spoke. “You know, I didn’t have to show you this. Least you could do is not give me the silent treatment.”

Harry stopped and turned to her. The moonlight was now shining directly on her face, making her pale skin practically glow. 

“I’m not mad at you. Far from it, actually. And I should’ve thanked you before, but then that thing with your brother and my dad happened.”

“Then why did you suddenly decide to leave? And don’t tell me it was because you were worried about curfew.”

Harry looked away, focusing on the castle beyond the trees. “I was ready to go off on you about your brother. But suddenly it felt incredibly silly. I guess I’m just tired of it. Us fighting over our families. It’s like there’s this constant hippogriff between us, pushing an argument neither of us wants. So I decided enough was enough.”

“Wow, that’s bloody mature of you.” Ginny smiled. “You’re right. I was ready to have a go at you the second you mentioned Charlie. But why would I want that? Not much of a laugh, is it?”

Ginny walked past Harry and took a seat on a large tree stump. Harry sat down next to her.

“I think I need to explain about Charlie... not to justify it, just explain.” He looked at Ginny, and she merely nodded for him to continue. “When my oldest brother Simon was in second year, he had already shown he was an amazing Beater. Least that’s how Dad tells it. Anyway, he tried out for the Gryffindor team that year. I believe that was your brother’s first year as Captain. Well done, by the way, to make captain in his fifth year.”

“Beat me by one,” Ginny added.

“Anyway, from how they tell it, Simon had a great practice. Easily the best Beater that day, maybe even best player aside from Charlie. And Charlie didn’t pick him. He never said why, but it was obvious.”

“He was a Potter,” Ginny whispered, and Harry nodded his agreement.

“So Simon writes a letter to my dad, and next thing you know it, he’s enrolled in Beauxbaton and starting on their Quidditch team. Everything that happened after that all led to our family relocating permanently to France. My brother Jack insisted on going to the same school as Simon, so my parents began spending more time on the Continent. Then my mum, who obviously is a Potions master, found some small apothecary shop that the owner wanted to sell. And since she couldn’t teach at Hogwarts like she wanted, she decided to buy the business. Her and Dad tried splitting time between England and France, but then he got an offer with the French Ministry and the move became permanent. Rosie still went to Hogwarts because of some brilliant bloke who taught here, but from what she says, Fred and George made it unbearable for her. So when that professor retired, she switched to Beauxbaton too. But my dad and Simon always bring up that tryout his second year.”

“But it was so long ago,” Ginny said. “And it worked out for Simon, didn’t it? I hear he just transferred to Ballycastle.”

“I guess. But I think it’s because we never wanted to leave England and Hogwarts. And I guess we, I mean _they_ , feel that the decision was taken out of their hands.”

“I’m sorry,” Ginny said. She leaned closer to Harry and rested her hands on his. They felt surprisingly warm. “It was a crummy thing for Charlie to do.”

“It’s ok. Everything worked out fine in the end, and it’s not like we were miserable in France. I guess if I had to really put myself in his shoes, I could see why Charlie made the call. My brother was really young, and a Potter and a Weasley on the same team?”

“True, it’s a barmy idea when you think about it. Like oil and water.”

The pair left the Forest and headed back into the castle, casually talking about everything and nothing all at once. Eventually the two found their way back to the Gryffindor common room. They headed upstairs together, pausing at the entrance to the 6th year girls’ dorm room. 

“Thanks again for showing me,” Harry said.

Ginny gave him a quick hug. “Don’t want to see you die until at least the second task, Potter.”

“I’ll do my best to last until then, Weasley.”

With that, Ginny departed to her room and Harry headed up to his, taking the stairs two at a time. It was funny, he realized as he entered his room and took off his robes, that he began the day hating Charlie Weasley like normal, but now he had no issue with the man. He was friends with Ginny, but Harry began to hope against hope that their friendship might lead to a thawing between the two families. As Harry laid down on his bed and closed his eyes, a tiny voice began whispering in the back of his mind that it could lead to something more, something even greater than Harry could hope for. But as quickly as the voice came, it left and was taken over by the contentment of a deep sleep.


	9. Chapter 8

The third week of November was among the busiest of Harry’s short life. The first Quidditch match of the season was set for Sunday, and exactly one week later was the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry did not know which he was more nervous about. On one hand, if he failed to perform well during the match, he would be letting Ginny and the rest of his team down. Harry would also be letting down all of Gryffindor and Professor McGonagall, who had cornered him after class, telling him as much. But if he failed at the task, he’d only be letting himself down, as no one else seemed to want him to succeed. Well, that was not quite true. His parents, for one, and perhaps Ginny. On the other hand, if he failed at the first task, letting his parents down would not seem like such a big deal since he’d probably be dead.

Either way, Harry was running impressively short on time. In addition to his normal course load, Ginny had the team running grueling weekend practices. The Gryffindor team was forced to give up the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and Ron had complained the loudest. During their Friday practice, he complained that Saturday practice would make the team too tired to play on Sunday, and they would need the respite that a Hogsmeade trip would provide. But when Ginny countered that he could just give up shagging to conserve his energy, Ron shut up immediately.

With the first match rapidly approaching, Harry was pleasantly surprised to find his teammates talking to him again. True, it was only during practice and only about Quidditch, but it was still nice to have that sense of camaraderie. Ginny was far more engaged with him as well, much to Ron’s chagrin. From time to time, he still took to trying to pelt Harry with whatever he could get his hands on, but for the most part, Ron ignored Harry in favor of focusing on the upcoming match.

When he wasn’t thinking about school or Quidditch, Harry was focused on dragons. Immediately upon finding out that he was facing the beats, Harry had felt a huge load on his shoulders. He had no earthly clue how he was going to deal with a dragon. He thought about asking Hagrid but knew that would reveal that he had information he should not be privy to.

Early Saturday morning, before anyone else was up in the castle, Harry found himself buried behind a stack of books in the library. Being an infrequent visitor to the library, he had no idea how to search the vast rows to find books specifically about dragons, and for the first time in his life Harry wished he had spent more time in the sprawling, dusty room.

“Harry?” a voice called out as he was skimming a rather large and moldy book. He looked up to see Hermione walking towards him, parchment in hand. “What are you doing here this early?”

“Studying,” he said, gesturing to the books in front of him on the table.

“And what exactly are you studying?”

“I’m trying to find out about dragons.”

“Dragons? Oh, right. The tournament.”

Harry eyed her suspiciously. “How do you know about that?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Hermione responded, rolling her eyes. “Charlie Weasley is at school.”

“Right. I forgot how bloody smart you are.”  _ And how bloody dumb I am for not realizing it, too. _ Harry thought.

“Well, how did you find out?”

“Er—"

“Oh, never mind.” Hermione again rolled her eyes. “Honestly, if you two are going to keep pretending, you need to be better about covering your tracks.” Hermione plopped down the bag she was carrying and picked up one of the opened books on the table. She glanced at the page, her eyes narrowing. “This isn’t about dragons, you know.”

“None of these books are.” Harry gave a great sigh and dropped his forehead to the table. “I’ve really cocked this up, haven’t I?”

“No, you just need to know where to look. I’ll help you. Just put all these books away and I will find the correct ones. Not that I condone cheating, of course. It was improper of Ginny to do that.”

Harry knew not to argue, and the pair got to work. Having Hermione helping him proved to be a godsend. After being admonished for learning of the dragons ahead of the task, a clear violation of the rules, Hermione dove headfirst into researching every book that mentioned them. She quickly discovered that dragons are especially known for their protectiveness, and thus deduced that Harry would likely need to steal something of theirs. Friday evening, she had presented Harry with several tomes and over 5 feet of parchment detailing possible strategies for subduing a dragon. But in the end, they both agreed that the best strategy was the simplest one. Harry would use a simple Summoning charm to steal whatever the dragon was guarding. 

The lessened load of solving the dragon issue was quickly replaced by the upcoming Quidditch match. Sunday arrived way too soon for Harry’s liking, and it turned into a soggy affair. Rain pelted the castle roof and cascaded down onto the grounds. Harry typically liked to wake up early on match days and get a solid breakfast in his stomach. But today, he found it difficult to get out of bed. Knowing he needed sustenance, Harry begrudgingly left his dorm room well after everyone else and made his way to the Great Hall. By the time he arrived, the tables were filled with students, many adorning their House colors. 

The Hufflepuff students were far noisier than Harry had ever heard them. They kept breaking into cheers and fight songs. He even saw Professor Sprout wearing a bright yellow robe and scarf. She had conjured a badger, who was dancing its way through the tables and students. The Gryffindor table was not to be outdone, however. Never before had Harry seen so much red and gold. Every Gryffindor had their face painted in their House Colors, and even Professor McGonagall had gotten into the spirit. She wore her typical Tartan robes, but they were now red and gold-checkered. The Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, had somehow managed to change his own color from the dreary grey to grey with hints of red, which unfortunately was the best a ghost could manage.

The festive atmosphere nearly buoyed Harry’s attitude, but he still couldn’t shake the tight ball in the pit of his stomach. He tried his best to shovel down some eggs and tomato, but his stomach would not comply. Harry had never felt so nervous for a match. He had certainly experienced bigger matches, of course. There was his first match as a seeker, the first championship match, and the match where he bested Jean-Pierre for the first time. And it was true that the upcoming match against Hufflepuff was not likely to be close. They had replaced virtually all their starters this year, and those replacements were rather poor. But yet, Harry couldn’t stop tapping his foot, he was so nervous.

The roar of noise in the Great Hall grew to a crescendo as students finished up their meals and began exiting for the pitch. As Harry sat and watched them cheer and shout, he realized that he couldn’t let his teammates down. Despite their treatment of Harry, he wanted nothing more than to win the match for them and give them a reason to celebrate. Soon, only a few students remained, aside from him. Harry forced down some pumpkin juice and stood up, broom in hand, ready to face the day. It was only then that he noticed the other boy sitting at the Gryffindor table. Ron looked quite pale, Harry saw, his freckles seeming more pronounced than usual. Harry noticed he had barely touched the food on his plate.

He didn’t know why he did it, but Harry found himself walking towards Ron.

“You alright, Weasley?” he asked.

Ron seemed not to notice him at first, but then exhaled rather loudly. “Fine, fine.”

“Er, ok then. We should head down to the pitch, I suppose.”

Ron robotically stood. “Right, right.” He started walking, his back hunched, when Harry said his name.

“You forgetting something?” he asked and Ron turned to see his broom resting on the bench.

“Oh, right,” he said, walking back to grab the broom. “Probably need that.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile. “We could just cast a levitation charm on you.”

To his shock, Ron actually laughed. He then straightened himself and turned to Harry. “Let’s win this for my sister. Or else she’ll kill us.”

And with that, Harry and Ron departed the Great Hall and made their way down to the locker rooms next to the pitch, neither needing to say another word to each other. 

The Gryffindor locker room always smelled of mold and sweat. But today it smelled different. Still moldy and still sweaty, but also a bit of sweetness. The rest of the team was already dressed and ready to go by the time Ron and Harry arrived. They both avoided the icy stares from Ginny and rushed to get their pads on. With the last shin guard strapped on, Harry rose, broom in hand.

“Right, you lot.” Ginny began pacing the room. “This is the first match of the season. I know we all  _ think _ it’s going to be an easy one, but never let your guard down against your opponent. Professor Moody always tells us ‘Constant Vigilance.’ Well, that applies to the pitch, as well. Hufflepuff might be inexperienced but that means they play reckless and dangerous. So we need to be smart and even more fearless.” Ginny turned to her brother. “Ron, watch Bones. Her tosses tail to the right and have some nasty spin. Peakes, you need to be relentless with the bludger. Don’t give their chasers any easy chances at Ron.” Finally, Ginny turned to Harry. “And you, Potter. Beasby is a second year and barely knows which way to point his broom. If you don’t catch the Snitch, don’t bother showing up to the next practice.”

“And miss out on your amazing leadership?” Harry responded, leaning casually on his broom, desperately trying to hide his nerves. “Just try to score at least a couple goals before I end it, Weasley.”

Ginny smirked and pushed open the doors of the locker, stepping out onto the field. Rain quickly showered down upon her, her hair turning dark red and clinging to her neck and shoulders. The wind had picked up since breakfast, and the rain was following at a sharp angle, like bullets. Ginny turned back to the rest of the team, who were all still covered from the rain. “Well, what are you lot waiting for? We’ve got a match to win!”

The team shouted in response as they all mounted their brooms and took off into the air.

Several hours later, Harry found himself in the Gryffindor common room, tired and still in his Quidditch uniform. A butterbeer was in one hand, and in the other was the Snitch. A smile crept on his face as he recalled the moment he spotted the glinting gold through the rain pellets. The match was not especially close at the time, with Ron playing inspired goalkeeping and Ginny pouring in goal after goal. But even so, it felt amazing for Harry to capture the Snitch and ensure victory for his team. All past animosity from the other Gryffindors disappeared the second his fingers closed around the Snitch, and Harry had spent much of the victory party accepting congratulations. 

He now sat on the sofa, watching his teammates celebrate and pour butterbeer on each other. There was an unbridled joy in their behavior that Harry had missed from his days at Beauxbaton, where his teams always played with the expectation of victory. The happiness and exuberance were never a part of French Quidditch, and Harry had wondered many times if that had impacted his feelings towards the game. But now he felt like he was finding the love of the sport once again.

Harry saw Ginny having a particularly fun time, hugging all her teammates. He rolled his eyes when Ginny planted a kiss on both Jimmy and Ritchie’s cheeks, and the boys shared a look.. But he also smiled when she jumped on Ron’s back and led the common room in a stirring rendition of a song called “Weasley is our King.”

Hermione came over and practically fell into the seat next to Harry, spilling butterbeer all over the couch.

“You alright there, Hermione?”

“I think I might have had too much to drink,” she said in between hiccups.

“Not proper for the Head Girl,” Harry teased.

“It was worth it,” she said, pointing her bottle in Ron’s direction. Ron was smiling ear to ear and toasting all who came across his path.

“You guys really are great together,” Harry said. “Even if he is a git.”

“You’re one to talk. When are you going to ask Ginny out already?” Hermione said, a little too loudly for Harry’s comfort. His eyes went wide and he quickly stood and pulled Hermione with him, further away from the party.

“Quiet! What’s gotten into you?”

“Butterbeer and a couple shots of Firewhiskey,” she said with a giggle that was very un-Hermione like. “I’m right, though.”

“No, you’re not. It can’t happen for a million reasons. Besides, she doesn’t like me like that.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Well, you see,” Harry began but realized he could not think of any reason. “You’re knackered. I’m not reasoning with a drunk girl.” Harry turned and started for the boy’s dorm rooms.

“Where are you going?” Hermione called out. “The party isn’t over!”

“I’m suddenly feeling really tired,” Harry said as he climbed the stairs and out of view of the rest of the party.

Harry still felt the effects of his victory several days later. He had a skip to his step and felt especially tall walking through the halls. Another consequence of grabbing the Snitch against Hufflepuff was that all of Gryffindor, save Ron and Dean, were firmly on Harry’s side ahead of the First Task. On the other hand, the Hufflepuff students were even more distasteful towards Harry, upping their taunts and minor hexes in the hallways. But Harry still preferred their teasing to his seemingly daily run-ins with Jean-Pierre. It felt to Harry as if the boy was shadowing him, always there with a well-placed heckle or sneer.

One day, Harry was walking across the courtyard in between classes when Jean-Pierre accosted him yet again. Fortunately, he was alone, and Harry did not need to whip out his wand in defense.

“Decent flying the other day,” Jean-Pierre said, leaning against a tree, the shade obscuring his face.

“Er, thanks,” Harry responded, his forehead scrunched at the compliment.

“I mean, those Hifflepoofs were quite poor. I saw the Snitch well before you did, or that pitiful other Seeker.”

_ There’s the plonker I know, _ thought Harry.

“Can I help you with something, or are you going to just continue taking up oxygen?” This earned a scowl from Jean-Pierre, who pushed himself off the tree and moved to stand directly in Harry’s face.

“Just a warning for today. The First Task is soon, and I warn you to stay out of the  _ heat,  _ lest you get burned.”

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed. “So you know what the First Task is, too?” Jean-Pierre’s face fell. “Yeah, you’re not the only one with connections. But good luck anyway.”

Harry began to walk away but Jean-Pierre grabbed his shoulder and spun Harry around. “You think you’re something, Potter. But you are wrong. You’re  _ un petit _ bug that must be squashed.”

“And here I was thinking I was a blast-ended skrewt. Such a disappointment.” The two boys stared at each other, waiting for the other to flinch. Suddenly, Harry caught a flash of orange out of his periphery. He followed the color as Ginny walked along the edge of the courtyard. Jean-Pierre turned his head and squinted.

“I must admit there is something quite fiery about British women, non?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed and he turned his attention back to Jean-Pierre. “Don’t even think about it.” Jean-Pierre’s eyes went wide with delight.

“Is she your paramour?”

“No, just a Weasley,” Harry responded. “But I wouldn’t waste your time with her. She’s got 6 brothers, each scarier than the next.”

“That just makes it more of a challenge. And you know I cannot resist such a fun challenge.” He turned again to see Ginny greet Luna. Harry and Jean-Pierre watched as Ginny talked animatedly with her friend, who merely nodded with a serene look on her face.

“I will have to introduce myself,” Jean-Pierre continued. “We’d make a striking couple, don’t you agree?”

“I think a toad would be a better match for you, personally.” 

“Ah, Potter, iz such a shame she is not yours. It would be that much sweeter to steal her away. But I will settle for her body, regardless.”

Harry pulled out his wand and stuck it in Jean-Pierre’s throat. The French boy gasped and backed up against the tree. His eyes darted frantically around for help, but the corridor had now been deserted. Even Ginny and Luna were nowhere to be seen.

“You hurt her, and you hurt ten times worse. Got it?”

Harry released the wand from Jean-Pierre’s neck, and the boy rubbed the reddened spot. “You are insane, Potter. And I will enjoy beating you on Sunday and taking the redhead from you.”

He spun on his heels and hurried away, his robes billowing behind him. Harry let out a deep breath and slumped against the tree. His hands were shaking so much he had to place them behind his back, securely against the tree. His knuckles dug into the bark, the pattern of the wood leaving an impression on them. 

Harry focused himself the next several days on the task ahead with unparalleled vigor. Any free time he had between classes was spent either practicing the Summoning spell in an empty classroom or flying on the Quidditch pitch. Shockingly, Ginny had decided to give the team an entire week off, which meant Harry had the pitch all to himself. His practices involved diving and weaving between imaginary dragons. He even used a quaffle as a stand-in for whatever the dragon might be guarding. 

Harry became so engrossed in his training that he did not realize until Wednesday evening that he was scheduled to meet with Ginny that night. Hermione had run into him at the library at 7:05.

“Here again?” she asked as she took the seat across. He looked up from the book he was reading.

“First Task is in 4 days. Of course I’d be here.” Harry then returned his focus to the book. Hermione grabbed it from him and turned it around.

_ “Everything you wanted to know about dragons…and ten things you didn’t.  _ Harry, you read this book before. Several times, in fact.”

“I just want to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

Hermione smiled. “I’m proud of you. Not many students would spend their Wednesday evenings in the library in the middle of term.”

Harry’s eyes went as wide as an ocean as he realized what time it was. “Shit! I gotta go!” He hurriedly crammed as many books into his bag as possible, leaving several still strewn across the table. He shot out of his chair and dashed out of the library.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean up!” Hermione cried, but Harry barely heard her. He sprinted his way up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Down the 7 th floor corridor he ran, his feet echoing loudly throughout. He turned the corner and saw Ginny sitting on the floor, her legs tucked under her, reading a book. She looked up at Harry as he hurried towards her. When Harry finally arrived at the entrance to the Room of Requirement, he dropped his bag and bent over to catch his breath.

“Sorry….I’m…..so…..late,” he wheezed out. Ginny calmly rose and patted him on the head.

“No worries, I just got here myself.” 

They entered the room, Harry dripping sweat down his neck. He threw himself onto the couch and splayed out before Ginny.

“Enticing, but maybe we can just talk?” she said with a grin.

Harry hoisted himself up into a seated position on the couch and Ginny came and sat down next to him. “So, anything exciting on the horizon?”

“I got one or two things in the works,” Harry said, his breath still labored. “Essay for Charms, brewing an anti-aging potion, have to defeat a dragon, maybe catch a show. You?”

“Such a boring life you lead,” she said with a wink before letting out an un-lady like snort. But then again, Harry never took Ginny as the proper lady to begin with. “So are you nervous?”

“Would you think less of me if I was?”

“Oh, Harry,” Ginny said, her face full of concern, “I couldn’t possibly think any less of you. It’s already quite low.”

“You’re a cruel person, Ginny Weasley.”

“That’s just how Weasleys are, with our empty hearts and black souls.” They both laughed. “But seriously.”

“Seriously? I was pretty nervous.” Harry hadn’t admitted this aloud to anyone, really. As a champion, he was supposed to be brave and fearless. But the difference between what you’re supposed to be and what you are can often be vast.

“But now, I’m more…what’s the right word?”

“Determined?” Ginny offered.

“Exactly. How’d you know?”

“You’ve been in the library nonstop, or if not, then empty classrooms. Always practicing.”

“Stalker,” Harry teased.

“No, you’re just constantly yelling out in frustration that we can hear it across the castle. It’s not just that, though. These last couple of days, it’s like you walk with more purpose and confidence. “

“Ok, now you’re definitely stalking me.”

“Hey, I’m just repeating what other girls say in the dorms.”

“Really?” Harry sat up a little straighter. “Any particular girls?”

“Just the really ugly ones.”

Harry laughed but then grew silent. Ginny, too, quieted herself. She shifted in her seat, as if she was sitting on a rock.

“So…” she started, “the champion from Beauxbaton, Jean-Pierre something.”

Harry tensed slightly at the utterance of his name. “Yes?”

“You went to school with him, so you know him, right?”

“You could say that,” Harry responded, unsure of where the conversation was headed.

“What’s his deal? Is he an all right bloke?”

“Why do you want to know?” Harry felt his neck grow hot.

“No reason. He came up to me and Luna the other day. It was weird, honestly. Never said one word until now and all of a sudden he’s chatting us up?”

“Chatting you up how?” Harry’s fingers curled into a fist, his knuckles turning white.

“Oh, nothing like that. Not really. He was actually quite nice. Especially to Luna. You know how she is. Some people can be really rude to her, but Jean-Pierre was rather pleasant.”

Harry remained silent but looked away.

“So is he?”

“Is he what?” Harry said, perhaps a bit too coldly. But if Ginny sensed anything amiss, she did not react.

“An all right bloke. Or should I have my wand out at all times around him?”

Harry wanted to tell her the truth. That Jean-Pierre was a colossal git. That all he wanted from her was one thing. That she could do so much better than that arrogant berk. That  _ he _ was so much better, and it should be  _ him _ chatting her up in that way. There were so many things Harry wanted to say that the words were on the tip of his lips, ready to spew like an erupting volcano. But instead, Harry said the words he knew he’d regret saying the moment they left his mouth.

“He’s fine. I don’t really know him too well.”

Ginny stared at Harry for a moment with her head tilted. Eventually she just shrugged her shoulders. “Good to know. Thanks.”

She rose from the couch and approached a stack of games in the corner of the room. “So exploding snaps or gobstones? Pick your poison.”

“Gobstones sound good,” Harry lied, and the two began to play. They spent the next hour together, playing games and talking. Harry played his part well. When Ginny told a joke, he laughed. When she teased him, he teased her back. But inside, Harry felt his chest constricting with each passing moment. His confidence and determination had been replaced by the familiar sense of fear and nervousness. The evening passed in a daze, and before he knew it, Ginny was packing up the games and leading him out of the Room of Requirement.

The rest of the week passed like a Nimbus 3000 through the sky. The only moments Harry had when time slowed were lying in bed, his mind racing between the First Task and images of Ginny and Jean-Pierre together. He tossed and turned so much that his blankets wound up on the floor every night. Bags had formed under Harry’s eyes and he struggled to stay awake during class. Not that it mattered, as he was so distracted he managed to lose 50 House points when he failed to turn in an essay in Transfiguration and then managed to cover half his class in green ooze from an exploding potion in his mum’s class.

Finally, the day had come. Harry woke early, before the sun had a chance to appear above the hills overlooking the Black Lake. The rest of his dormmates were still fast asleep, the loud snores from Ron puncturing the morning silence. Harry quietly made his bed, grabbed his robes and made for the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, scrubbing his tongue vigorously to get rid of the acrid taste in his mouth. Harry skipped his shower, deciding he was going to be quite smelly after fighting a dragon. Grabbing his trainers, he tip-toed out of the dorm room and down the stairs, shivering with every step of his bare feet on the cold stone. Once in the safety of the common room, Harry tied his laces, tossed his robes over his head, and headed out the door to the Great Hall.

As he made his way down the corridor, Harry looked out of the castle window down to the lush grounds below. It was well into November, and the chill in the air meant that the greenery would soon give way to a blanket of white snow. Harry did not remember the last time he saw a heavy snow; it usually only flurried at Beauxbaton. But he distinctively recalled winters in Godric’s Hollow, building snowmen with Jack and getting pelted by snowballs from Simon. Rosalynn would sit with him with a cup of hot chocolate, and together they’d read Christmas stories. But while the winter was always a welcome sight in France, it never felt like England. Harry was hoping things would be different now.

He was shaken from his thoughts, however, by the most pleasant sight. Down below, Harry saw Ginny. She was by herself and running like a banshee. Harry stopped walking and moved to the window, his nose pressed flat against the glass. It was still dark out, though the sun had now officially made an appearance, casting short shadows against the castle. Ginny slowed her run to a brisk jog as she approached a large hill leading towards the castle entrance. Harry noticed that despite the cold, Ginny was barely wearing any clothing. She had a tank top and shorts that barely reached her mid-thigh. Ginny was naturally pale, but the cold weather made her almost translucent, save her face, which was bright red. 

Harry was utterly transfixed as he watched her run, her hair blowing behind her as if she was being chased by fire. All worries and concerns fled from his mind, and all he could see in front of him was blissful oblivion. He would be happy to stand in that spot for the rest of time, and was determined to do so, until he was rudely interrupted by another Weasley.

“Oi!” Ron shouted, Hermione at his side. “Why are you looking like a statue, Potter?”

Harry’s eyes went wide. Had he been caught staring?

“Oh, I, uh, was just noticing the…” His eyes darted around before landing on a rather large painting of a goblin fighting a merperson. “ _ Painting _ .”

Ron and Hermione shared a look. “Well, there are broom closets if you want to get more acquainted.” He sniggered and tugged Hermione’s hand, the two continuing on their way.

As they turned the corner, Harry breathed a sigh of relief and chanced another look out the window. Ginny was nowhere in sight. Without the pleasant distraction, Harry’s thoughts returned to the task ahead, and he started down to the Great Hall for a hopefully quiet breakfast. He was fortunate that only a few smatterings of students were there, along with several professors, including his mum. He did not see his dad, which was unsurprising since he enjoyed a lie-in as much as the next bloke. Ron and Hermione were seated at the other end of the Gryffindor table, Ron shooting Harry the occasional sneer. 

After finishing up his eggs and baked beans before the rush of students hit, Harry dashed out of the Great Hall and headed towards the site of the First Task. A makeshift path had been made, leading the spectators down to the site. As he drew closer, he saw that a great tent had been erected. Pennants flew on top of the structure, which had three tentpoles and was colored like a rainbow. The wind had picked up as the sun rose higher into the sky, and pennants struggled to remain affixed to the poles. Harry could not see anything beyond the tent, as it obstructed whatever was holding the dragons. But he could barely make out the edges of the stands for the spectators. The stands rose tall, and Harry realized that meant it would not be just students attending the task. He figured such a prestigious event would attract higher-level Ministry people from both home and abroad.

Harry veered from the path and soon found himself on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. As Harry ventured a bit deeper into the forest, the massive trees darkened the sky. Once satisfied he was obscured enough, Harry found a seat on a fallen tree and looked out onto the grounds. From his vantage point, he could see everyone coming down the path and disappearing behind the tent. Harry took comfort in the solitude, allowing the breeze from the lake to weave through the trees and crash onto his face. Nearby a squirrel was gnawing on a chestnut, and Harry thought for a moment he could hear the sounds of clopping.

Suddenly, Harry was broken from his peaceful respite by the sound of fireworks. His eyes shot to the sky and indeed several explosions of color could be seen above the tent. The First Task was about to commence. With a heavy sigh, Harry hoisted himself off the fallen tree and began the lonely walk to the tent.

When he arrived, he was met with a flurry of activity. Witches and wizards he had never seen before were bustling about like chickens without their heads. Looking for a familiar face, Harry’s eyes finally fell on Hilda, the champion from Durmstrang. Her face was like stone and she failed to acknowledge Harry when their eyes met. About a meter away stood Jean-Pierre. If Hilda’s face was like stone, then Jean-Pierre’s face resembled that of a cornered cat. His eyes kept darting back and forth and sweat was already beading on his forehead. Harry wanted to smile as the façade had melted away, revealing the true nature of the French boy. Part of Harry wanted to find Ginny, grab her hand, and put her right in front of Jean-Pierre, so she could see who he truly was. But Harry could not help but feel sorry for Jean-Pierre in that moment. He knew what awaited them, and there was a chance neither would escape unscathed. Rather than taunt the French boy, Harry instead chose to ignore him and find a seat off to the side, away from the craziness.

After several minutes, the noise had subsided as most of the tent had emptied. Soon it was just the champions and a couple low-level Ministry people. But then there was a commotion outside of the tent, and then a series of very important people entered. The first to stride into the tent was Madam Maxime, who needed to bend low to enter. Harry tensed slightly at the sight of the tall women, a reminder of the many detentions he endured while under her tutelage. Harry tensed even further when Snape entered. His hooked nose twitched and he grimaced, as if encountering a very unpleasant smell. Mr. Crouch came next, dressed impeccably in a Muggle suit and bowler. James entered and immediately the energy in the room seemed to change. He wore a wide smile on his face and was in the middle of telling Crouch a joke which the older man clearly did not find amusing.

Seeing his father laughing and joking allowed Harry to relax his shoulders and breathe easier. Perhaps the task was not so dangerous after all, Harry thought. His father found him with his eyes and made his way over to where Harry was sitting. James patted his knee and took the empty seat next to Harry.

“All right there, Harry?” he asked, throwing his arm over Harry’s shoulder.

“Hey, Dad,” Harry responded, allowing himself to fall back into his father’s arm. “What brings you around these parts? Something going on?”

James smirked. “Glad to see you’re being your typical self.” His smile faltered slightly. “Seriously, how are you feeling?”

Harry took a moment to respond, allowing the question to sink in. “I’m doing ok. Ready to get this over with, honestly.”

“You’ll do amazing. You’re a Potter, after all.” He gave Harry a wink, and Harry groaned. Leave it to his Dad to say the exact wrong thing in the nicest way.

“Listen, I know I’m not supposed to give you advice--“ James began, but was cut off by the sound of Dumbledore audibly clearing his throat.

“If I may have all of our champions step forth,” Dumbledore said. Harry saw Jean-Pierre nervously step forward, followed by Hilda, who looked almost bored. Harry turned to his dad, who nodded reassuringly. Harry slowly stood and walked over to Dumbledore, who positioned the three champions in a circle.

“Excellent. You are all about to embark on a difficult journey. I must again stress the danger you all will face. At any time, if you wish to quick, simply raise your wand in the air and yell “ _ Periculum _ ” and a Professor will immediately come to your aid. Now, unless you have any questions, we shall begin the First Task.” Seeing none, Dumbledore motioned for Mr. Crouch, who entered the circle carrying a small pouch cinched at the top.

Mr. Crouch cleared his throat. Several times, in fact. He twitched his mustache slightly and then opened the bag slightly. “The object of the First Task is to retrieve an object placed on the grounds outside. You must secure the object and then proceed beyond the perimeter. You may use whatever spells necessary to achieve your goal, save for the Unforgivables, of course. Now, inside the bag,” he began, opening the bag slightly, “will be a small representation of your opponent for the First Task. When I call your name, please place your hand in the bag and pull out your figurine.”

Harry hoped against hope that he would choose right. Maybe if he had first choice, he could feel around for pointy horns.

“Madam Hilda Ericson from Durmstrag, if you would.”

Without even a pause, Hilda shoved her hand into the bag and yanked out a small dragon with a squashed blue nose and long, whipping tail. It stomped around the palm of her hand and let out a tiny roar, which sounded like a kitten. Harry couldn’t help but smile at the cute figure in Hilda’s hand.

“The Swedish Short Snout,” Mr. Crouch announced. Hilda smiled slightly and withdrew from the circle. Harry noticed that James had now moved to stand behind him and rested his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“Monsieur Jean-Pierre Montague from Beauxbaton.” Jean-Pierre eyed the bag. He tentatively stuck out his hand, slowly inching it further into the bag. Suddenly the hand darted back out and he let out a yelp.

“It bit me,” he complained, but Mr. Crouch merely motioned for him to pick his dragon. Jean-Pierre quickly darted his hand back into the bag and yanked out a tiny green dragon by the tail.

“Ah, the Common Welsh Dragon,” Mr. Crouch said, and Harry felt his father’s hands grip him tightly. He looked back at his father to see the jovial face gone, replaced by the look of dread and fear.

“Which leaves us with the Hungarian Horntail.” He motioned for Harry to grab the remaining dragon. Harry obliged and put his hand in the bag, earning himself a prick on the finger for his efforts. He removed the Hungarian Horntail, which stomped around his palm blowing small fireballs, singeing the hair on Harry’s arm.

Mr. Crouch began reciting the rules of the contest, but Harry had trouble paying attention. He kept glancing to his father, who would nod reassuringly. But Harry could see the worry behind his James’ eyes.

Soon the instructions were completed and everyone, save the champions, began to leave the tent and go to their seats. James was the last to leave. Harry followed him to the tent’s exit. James turned to his son and gave him a hug.

“Be safe out there,” he said, his voice struggling for strength. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

With a last wink, he departed the tent, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Harry could hear the crowd roar with anticipation. Several cheers rang out with each school singing their Fight Song. Suddenly, the booming voice of Dumbledore rang out.

“Sonorus!” The noise grew to a hush. Harry was tempted to peek his head outside to get a better look at the arena but thought better of it when he saw the other champions standing in the middle of the tent. Instead, he turned his ear in hopes of hearing better.

“Welcome to the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament!” Dumbledore exclaimed, and the crowd erupted in cheers once again. “I am pleased to welcome delegates from the French and British Ministries, as well as our friends from the East.” Harry heard a smattering of applause. “I will now turn the festivities over to James Potter from the British Ministry.”

“Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore,” Harry heard his father say. Harry could also make out a small smattering of boos. He felt his neck grow red and his blood boil. He could only assume those boos were coming from specific Gryffindors. “Now, today’s event will test the nerve and ingenuity of our champions. We will see how they react under the hottest of pressure. Our first champion will be from Durmstrang Academy. Witches and wizards, give a great round of applause to Hilda Ericson!”

A mighty cheer went up and Harry turned to look behind him. Hilda rose from her seat, confident and assured. Her face was a mask of stone as she strode passed Harry and out of the tent.

Many minutes later and Hilda still was fighting with her dragon, if the screams of the crowd were any indication. Harry’s stomach tensed every time he heard an “ooh” or “aah.” Finally, after an agonizingly long time, a great roar was heard, followed by the sound of fireworks.

“A tremendous display from the Durmstrang Champion!” Harry could hear James shout. There was a brief lull in the action, from what Harry could make out, before Jean-Pierre’s name was called. He looked at the boy, who had gone even paler than when they first entered the tent. Sweat cascaded down his face, soaking the top of his robes. He remained fixed to his seat. Harry had a sudden urge to go to his school nemesis and offer him a show of support. He stopped himself just as soon as he took the first step.

_ What am I thinking? _ Harry thought. This boy was his tormentor and enemy. He was also his competition. So why did Harry suddenly feel the desire to help? Perhaps it was because they were both in a precarious situation that very few people could understand. He found himself thinking about the Weasleys. How difficult it was being around them when he first came to Hogwarts, and how things slowly improved once he befriended Ginny. Maybe this was an opportunity to extend an olive branch and put their petty rivalry behind them.

“What are you staring at, Potter?” Jean-Pierre said, breaking Harry from his thought. “Are you in love with me?”

“Stuff it, Jean-Pierre. I just thought maybe you could use a hand getting to the arena.”

“A hand? What iz this you are offering?” He eyed Harry, his eyes narrowed. “Ah, a ruze this is. Trying to distract me. But you cannot.” Jean-Pierre stood tall and sniffed at Harry. He smiled broadly, and Harry had to fight the urge not to gag at the display of self-satisfaction.

“In fact, zee only thing that could distract me iz the body of the Weazley girl.”

Harry’s hand went to his wand but he did not remove it from its pocket. “Shut up about her.”

“Yes, I hope I do not see her while I am taming zee dragon.” Harry briefly wondered if Jean-Pierre was laying on the accent extra thick just to annoy him.

“Her beauty can be very…distracting, non? I zink when I am victorious, I shall ask her out on a date. After all, no witch could rezist me under typical circumstances. But as a slayer of dragon, she will be like putty in my hand.”

“She’ll never be into a snooty git like you,” Harry said heatedly.

“And you think she will take to you, a Potter? Tsk tsk, Harry. Do not play with fire. You will get burned.” Jean-Pierre threw open the tent and a burst of sunlight illuminated the dark tent. He walked through it and it closed behind, the darkness enveloping Harry once again.

_ Well, that could’ve gone better _ , Harry thought.

A short while later, Harry heard a tremendous cheer go up from the crowd. “And how about that?” Harry could hear his father exclaim. “He’s got it in record time! What a performance!”

Harry let out a low breath. He knew now that he’d need to complete whatever task was before him as fast as possible if he wanted a shot at taking first, but he couldn’t risk being cavalier, not with an ill-tempered dragon to deal with.

Harry began pacing back and forth, waiting for the moment when his name would be called. Finally, after walking himself into a rut, he heard his father announce him.

“And now….from Hogwarts…the Champion…..Harry Potter!” Harry stepped out from the tent into a massive field of boulders and grass. He was greeted by a chorus of boos. But Harry was too transfixed by the scene in front of him to notice. Surrounding the field were rafters high as the clouds, packed with students, faculty and other witches and wizards. In the middle stood a small dais where the judges sat. There was Dumbledore, Maxime, Snape and Crouch. Harry looked for his father, finding James nearby at a podium. The two made eye contact and James gave his son a small wave, calming Harry, if only slightly.

Harry tentatively stepped further into the arena. His eyes darted back and forth. He needed to focus, he knew. There was danger lurking. 

Harry looked for the dragon but could not see the great beast, so he kept moving across the field, darting from boulder to boulder. Suddenly, he caught a glint of gold in the distance. It reminded him of the Snitch. Harry instinctively raced towards it. As he moved closer, he realized it was actually a large Golden Egg, placed neatly in a bed of twigs and sand. This must be what he needed to capture.

Harry pointed his wand and shouted “Accio Egg!” with a great yell. He held open his hand, waiting for the egg to zoom towards his body. But the egg did not move; it did not even shutter. 

“Accio Egg!” he shouted even louder, but to no avail. Sweat started to pool on Harry’s brow and he looked around nervously.  _ Why wasn’t it working?  _ Harry immediately realized a charm must have been placed on the Egg. He felt incredibly silly, thinking that such a basic spell would be successful. He could even hear several spectators chuckle.

Harry was so caught up in feeling embarrassed for himself that he did not notice the massive dragon tail whip towards him until the spikes had nearly taken his head off. He ducked just in time to avoid the great beast, a gale of wind knocking him over. The crowd gasped as Harry pinned himself to the ground, the dirt cold on his cheek. Quickly gathering his wits, Harry pushed himself off the ground and retreated to behind a large boulder several meters away from the dragon. 

The dragon let out a great roar and sent a fireball towards the boulder. Thankfully, Harry was well-protected by the great stone, though it was now charred and smoking. The Horntail paced back and forth, sniffing for its prey. Harry looked around nervously.  _ What was he going to do?  _ Harry began to run down a list of every spell he could think of, but nothing sounded doable. He remembered something Hermione had told him during their study sessions:“Play to your strengths.”.

Harry began cataloguing everything he was good at. He could conjure a Patronus, but that wouldn’t do much good here.  _ Expelliarmus _ always did the trick during duels in Defense, but the dragon held nothing in his hands, obviously, so that was out.

Then, as if Merlin himself had come back from the dead with the thought, Harry was hit with a bolt of inspiration. He stood up tall and pointed his wand at the castle tower which housed the Gryffindor dorms, and shouted, “Accio Firebolt!”

The Hungarian Horntail blew another burst of fire towards Harry, who had to duck down quickly to avoid his hair being set on fire. The dragon was inching closer, the chain around his neck pushing against the scaly skin on his neck. Harry waited with bated breath, hoping against hope that his last-ditch plan would work.

As if on cue, Harry heard a whizzing sound overhead. He looked up to see his trusty Firebolt screaming towards him. Harry knew this was his chance. Saying a small prayer to whoever was listening, Harry leapt on his broom just as it was passing him and sped off up into the sky. The Horntail sent a massive fireball in his direction, and the flame managed to singe the bristles of his broom. The dragon struggled against the chain that was tying him to the ground. Harry turned his broom back towards the dragon and headed right at his open mouth. The dragon lunged forward, ready to snap up its meal. But at the last second, Harry ducked the broom straight down towards the ground. He barreled towards the surface, but pulled up just at the last moment, his trainers barely dislodging several blades of grass. Harry flew under the belly of the dragon, through its front legs. He leaned over and scooped up the egg in his right hand, cradling it while keeping his balance. Harry flew through the dragon’s hindlegs and out passed the perimeter of the arena. He had done it.

“Great Merlin!” shouted his father. “That was some of the best flying I’ve seen since Krum in the World Cup! Harry Potter has the egg in the fastest time of the day!”

Harry’s breath slowed down enough to take in the scene before him. Several witches and wizards had run onto the field to subdue the Hungarian Horntail. The crowd was roaring with approval at his display. His father and mother were now hugging in the stands and waving as Harry made a lazy lap around the arena. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sections were cheering loudly, and even some Slytherins had joined in. Harry’s eyes passed over the Gryffindor section of the crowd. He saw Hermione and Neville first; they were cheering louder than anyone else and Hermione would not let Neville go, she was hugging him so fiercely. Ron stood next to them. On his other side was Seamus and Dean. Seamus was cheering along with the rest, and even Dean was clapping. But Ron remained stoic and unmoving. But Harry did not care about any of that. His eyes were looking for one person in particular.

Ginny was not sitting with her brother or her friends. Instead, she was at the top of the stands, behind all her classmates and sandwiched between two elderly witches. Harry slowed his broom to stop as he took her in. Perhaps it was because she was sitting between two hags, or maybe it was just the way the sun hit Ginny’s face, illuminating every freckle. But he never found her more beautiful than in that moment. And she was cheering, actually cheering. Her voice rose above the noise around her. She wore a smile that seemed reserved for just him. Harry wanted nothing more than to fly right up to her and kiss her, forgetting the stupid feud and what others would think.

But he knew he couldn’t. Because as much as he wished it, the truth was she was not his to kiss. There Harry was, floating quite literally in the air, having tamed a dragon, and with a stadium of people chanting his name. And yet the only thing he wanted in that moment was beyond his grasp, like a Snitch that couldn’t be caught. Ginny did not want to be caught, at least not by him. 

As Harry landed on the ground and made his way back to the tent to await his scores, he thought bitterly about why things could never be as simple as stealing an egg from a dragon.


	10. Chapter 9

A week had passed since the First Task, and Harry could not tamper the smile that flitted across his face. He had secured first place, narrowly besting Jean-Pierre. Even low marks from Snape were not enough to outweigh the perfect scores he received from Professor Dumbledore and Madam Maxime. As sweet as victory was, it paled in comparison to seeing the smug expression wiped off Jean-Pierre’s face. He could only imagine the poor bloke’s chances with Ginny now.

After he finished the First Task and secured the Egg, a party was held in the Gryffindor Tower in his honor. There was more food and butterbeer than Harry had ever seen, and the students could ever hope to finish, and everyone was in high spirits. Harry’s Quidditch teammates took turns hoisting him in the air. He must’ve shaken every hand in the room, save for Ron and Dean’s, who both deliberately avoided the party. Ginny too could not be found, which Harry had understood but had nevertheless been disappointed by. 

During the party, the Golden Egg was passed around. Harry kept his eye on the Egg all times, and after Neville nearly dropped it, he took it back and held it up for all to see.

“Who wants me to open it?” he shouted, and his friends shouted their encouragement. As soon as Harry opened the Egg, a terrible scream erupted, its wail haunting and painful. The students immediately clapped their ears with their hands. Harry winced and shut it immediately. He looked at the Egg quizzically, searching along the seams for some clue on how to open it. Realizing that he’d need to figure out a way long enough to hear the clue, Harry sought Hermione out. Unfortunately, she had left the party early, most likely to provide Ron with company. The celebration eventually ended, and Harry retired to his dorm, making sure to keep the Egg safe under his bed. He took in a last round of congratulations from his fellow Gryffindors before his head hit the pillow, and Harry enjoyed his most restful night of sleep since coming to Hogwarts.

It seemed that his victory had turned the opinions of nearly all the school. Whereas the Hogwarts students were tormenting Harry the week leading up to the task, now they all desperately wanted to be his friend. This was at least a situation Harry was familiar with from Beauxbaton. The familiar feelings of suspicion and annoyance at all the hanger-ons returned in full force. He was especially irked that the same students who’d lobbed insults at him just days ago were now asking him to sit with them in the library. Harry had few needs in a friend, but above all else, he desired loyalty. He was happy that the student body was now supporting him, but Neville and Hermione remained Harry’s only true and steadfast friends. And Ginny, of course. But he couldn’t tell anyone that.

Ron seemed to be the only Hogwarts student not trying to get on Harry’s good side; he was still determined to hate Harry with every fiber of his being, and Harry oddly found some honor in that. At least Weasley was loyal to his beliefs, Harry thought.

Unfortunately, Harry’s good fortune came at a cost. James had taken Harry’s performance and run with it. During lunch one day, he overheard James telling Hagrid how Harry was going to become the most famous Potter in history, how his victory would be spoken of for centuries to come. Harry thought for a moment about trying to avoid his dad, lest he start asking for Harry to sit for a painting in celebration of his great success. But he decided on the much more mature solution of asking his mum for help.

“You need to tell Dad to cool it,” he pleaded, and Lily smiled and stroked his head.

“I know, but he’s just so excited for you. Telling your father not to be overly enthused is like telling a Mandrake not to wail. Just be patient with him and try not to let it get to you. Focus on the task at hand. You have started on that, right?”

Harry gulped and looked away. He knew that his Mum could tell when he was lying just by staring at his eyes. Harry supposed she had an unfair advantage in that respect.

“I basically have it worked out,” he said while staring at a rather interesting set of cauldrons. He looked back in time to see Lily roll her eyes.

“Harry, don’t put this off to the last minute like it’s homework. You can’t afford a Dreadful grade on your next task.”

“I promise I’ll get right on it,” Harry said, rather unconvincingly. 

“Sure you will,” Lily laughed. “Now get out, I have students coming who actually enjoy my class.”

Harry took his mum’s words to heart and spent most of the next few days thinking about how best to open the Egg. Harry was a clever boy but not clever enough to crack the riddle. He needed help and again sought out Hermione for help. If anyone could figure it out, it would be her. But Hermione was nowhere to be found. After his last class of the day, Harry searched the library, going through every row of bookshelves before giving up and continuing his search elsewhere. He checked the Gryffindor common room to no avail. He checked as many empty classrooms as he could and still Hermione wouldn’t turn up. He was ready to give up when he came across his dad talking with Hagrid in the courtyard.

“Harry!” he shouted upon seeing Harry across the courtyard. Hagrid waved Harry over with his big hands, causing James’ cloak to billow.

“How yer doing with classes, Harry?” Hagrid asked.

“Going ok, I suppose.”

“Wish I had yer for Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Me too,” Harry answered honestly. “Maybe I can stop by one evening and you show me some of what I’m missing? Mum said you had a lesson on thestrals?”

“Oh, that was a doozy. Beautiful creatures, you ask me. Completely misunderstood.”

Hagrid glanced at his watch and his eyes went wide. “I best be off. Important appointment to keep.” He turned to James and patted him on the back, causing James to nearly lose his balance. “I’ll see you for dinner and we can grab that firewhiskey after.”

“Sounds like a plan, Hagrid.” James said and with that, Hagrid left James and Harry.

“Bet you ten galleons his appointment is with Aberforth at the Hog’s Head.” James grinned. “So, figured the Egg out yet?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Harry groaned. “Any chance you could bend your moral code for one day and give me a hint?”

“And what sort of father and Ministry official would I be if I did that?”

“The best kind?” 

James laughed and slung his arm over Harry’s shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. You’re a smart lad.” The two walked back inside the castle. “So, what are you up to now?”

“Trying to find someone. I’ve looked through the entire castle and she isn’t turning up.”

Suddenly James stopped walking and smacked himself in the forehead. “I’m an utter dolt!”

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, concerned etched on his face.

“Come with me.” James grabbed Harry and dragged him to his and Harry’s mum’s quarters. Harry waited outside while James disappeared, reemerging several minutes later waving an old piece of parchment in his hand.

“I was planning on giving this to you weeks ago, but it just slipped my mind with everything going on.”

He thrusted the parchment into Harry’s hand. Harry ran his hands over the crinkly piece of paper, its edges yellowed with age. 

“What is this?” he asked, looking up at his Dad, who wore a huge grin from ear to ear.

“This, my son, is the answer to your problems. Though it might create a few.”

Harry eyed the parchment, looking over every inch but seeing nothing. He again looked to his Dad for an answer.

James removed his wand from his robes and tapped the center of the parchment.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” he said, almost song-like. Suddenly, black lines began appearing on the parchment. Harry could start to make out words and shapes. Eventually, he realized he was now looking at a map. In the center, Harry read:

_“Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

_Are proud to present_

_THE MARAUDER’S MAP”_

“Marauder’s Map?” Harry asked and James nodded. Harry looked at the name _Prongs_.

“You made this?”

“Well, Remus probably did the bulk of the work, but Sirius and I played our part. Even Peter helped.”

Harry was mesmerized by what his hands held. He opened the map and was even more blown away. On the map was every room, staircase and passageway in Hogwarts. Even more amazing was all the names floating around. Every student, teacher, and even ghost was represented. Harry saw Neville and Luna walking on the 4th floor, Dean and Seamus’ names were huddled closely in the Gryffindor dorms, and even Dumbledore pacing back and forth in his office.

“This map is what made my years at school so much fun. Your godfather and I got up to so much trouble with it.”

“This is the most brilliant thing I’ve ever seen,” Harry said in a hushed voice.

“It’s yours now, son.”

“Really?”

“Who else would I give my most valuable possession to?” Harry beamed at the comment and launched himself at his dad, hugging him for all he was worth.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“No problem. Now, don’t abuse this. Only use it for sneaking out after curfew and for finding the best snogging spots.” James wiggled his eyebrows at Harry. “You can start by finding that friend of yours.”

Harry scanned the map for Hermione’s name, and after a minute, found it. Unfortunately, it was nearly on top of Ron’s name in the Prefect’s Bathroom. Harry’s face turned bright red.

“Ugh!” he exclaimed and promptly folded the map back up. The writing remained.

James tapped the parchment once again. “Mischief managed,” he said, and the ink disappeared. He took the map and folded it up before placing it in Harry’s robes. “Careful who you show that to. Filch has been trying to get his hands on it for years.”

Harry gave his dad another hug and departed to the Gryffindor tower. He found a cozy spot against the window and removed the map. Harry spent the next few hours poring over it, regularly checking to see when Hermione would become free. Harry checked on a few other names, but he spent the most time focused on one name in particular, watching as her name flew up and down the Quidditch pitch. Harry had never before focused so intently on a piece of old parchment, and it was only when he heard the footsteps of his dormmates hurrying down the stairs to go to dinner that he finally pulled his eyes away. Harry gave one last glance at the map, shuddering upon seeing Hermione and Ron still in the Prefect’s bathroom before putting the map away and following the other students to the Great Hall. Harry was halfway through his Shepherd's Pie when he saw Hermione and Ron enter the Great Hall, hand-in-hand. Ron looked particularly disheveled and Harry fought the urge to spew his food onto his plate.

As dinner drew to an end, Harry was surprised to see the headmaster approach the lectern. After calling for quiet, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“Christmas is truly a wonderful time of year and I’m sure many of you are looking forward to spending time with your families. For those considering staying at Hogwarts, however, I am pleased to offer up a rather engaging source of entertainment. As is the tradition during the TriWizard Tournament, I would like to announce that we shall hold a Yule Ball in celebration.”

At once the Great Hall erupted in exciting chatter at the revelation of a dance. Dumbledore held up his hand, and the students quieted immediately. “As I was saying, in the spirit of camaraderie and cooperation between the three schools, the Yule Ball serves as a chance for students from the different schools to get to know one another and form lasting bonds. All students fourth year and above may attend, and any student below may only attend if accompanied by an older student. “

There were many audible groans and shouts from the younger children, as well as many of the older boys who now had the obligation of finding a date.

“Lastly, for our three Champions, you will all have the distinct honor of opening the festivities with the first dance. I suggest you all find a partner for the evening sooner rather than later. And with that, I bid you all a good night!”

Harry’s heart sank at the announcement. As if life wasn’t stressful enough with fighting dragons and trying to open an egg, he now faced the most terrible task of all: finding a date. His previous desire to find Hermione receded to the back of his mind.

The entire student body was in a tizzy about the Yule Ball for the next few weeks The younger girls all giggled excitedly about the chance to go to the Ball, while both the older and younger boys all seemed dreadfully frightened about the affair. As Harry walked back from dinner Wednesday evening, his eyes connected with Jean-Pierre, who seemed rather excited about the idea of the dance. Harry knew that Jean-Pierre would relish the position he was in as a Champion who would have his pick of possible dates. But Harry also knew who Jean-Pierre had his eye on. The question was whether her eyes would land back on Jean-Pierre and if Harry would do anything about it.

By the time Harry returned to the dorms and plopped himself down on the couch, his mind was so cluttered he had forgotten what day it was. It was only when Hermione had returned to the dorms and reminded Harry that he realized and hurried off to meet Ginny. He thanked Hermione, still too embarrassed to meet her eye, and ran out of the common room. As he hurried towards the 7th floor, Harry began to worry about how he was going to get Hermione to help him crack the Egg if he struggled to even look her in the eye.

Harry wound up running into Ginny at the bottom of the staircase.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said with a grin and the pair ascended the stairs together. The thought popped into Harry’s head about asking Ginny for help with his Egg problem. It made sense, he thought. Ginny was pretty clever, and it would give them an excuse to spend more time together.

Harry explained his problem with Ginny as they walked towards the Room of Requirement for their weekly meeting on Wednesday.

“The Egg didn’t offer any clue when you opened it?” she asked as they climbed the stairs.

“It made an awful noise, kind of like a woman screeching. But I couldn’t take it much longer and closed it pretty quick.”

“That isn’t helpful. Definitely ask Hermione. She could probably identify the scream as some obscure ancient ritual from Romania or something like that.”

“Are you saying Hermione knows a lot? _Our_ Hermione?”

“She’s been known to read a book or two,” Ginny said before launching into a near-perfect imitation of Hermione explaining the origins of the Romanian banshee. Harry clutched his sides and had to stop walking.

“Let me see what I can find out,” Ginny said once Harry stopped laughing.

“You’re a lifesaver, Ginny,” Harry said, and he put his hand on her shoulder, causing Ginny to tense. The moment his hand touched her shoulder, a vision passed through Harry’s mind of the two of them dancing at the Yule Ball; Harry’s hands around her waist, Ginny’s cupping the back of his neck. The air suddenly grew warm, and Harry removed his hand quickly.

“We should get going,” Ginny said, and the pair walked in silence towards the 7th floor corridor and the Room of Requirement. But Harry noticed that Ginny kept eying him as they walked. Several times he started to say something but then the words would catch in his throat.

“You ok?” Ginny asked, and Harry knew he was not as inconspicuous as he had hoped.

“Fine, why?”

“It just seems like you have something on your mind. Bit quiet is all.”

“You’re not so chatty yourself,” Harry said a bit too forcefully.

“Maybe I have a lot on my mind,” Ginny countered, sticking out her tongue. Harry let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. Ginny always seemed to be able to break him out of his moods, frequent thought they may be.

“Anyone ever tell you how frustrating you are?”

“Almost every bloke I’ve dated,” she said before adding, “and now you.”

Harry instinctively moved his hand to the back of his neck, feeling the raised hairs and heat against his palm. But he was thankful that Ginny unknowingly gave him the opening he needed.

As they entered the Room of Requirement, Harry finally got up the nerve to broach the subject closest to the front of his mind.

“So, speaking of dates, crazy about the Yule Ball, innit?”

“What’s so crazy about it? It’s tradition.”

_Stupid, Potter,_ Harry chastised himself.

“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just, er, at Beauxbaton we didn’t really have dances.”

Ginny shrugged. “Same here. Only time I ever really danced was at my older brother Bill’s wedding. And that was a bit of a disaster.”

“Not very graceful on the ground, Weasley?”

“More like the wizard couldn’t stop stepping on my feet.”

Harry laughed. “Well, maybe it’s because they’re so big.”

Ginny scoffed. “I’ll have you know my feet are small and dainty and quite ladylike,” she said in a very posh voice while pointing her toes towards Harry.

“Eh, looks like it’s impossible to avoid crushing them,” Harry countered as he eyed her feet. In truth, they were rather small and narrow.

“Is that a challenge, Potter?” Ginny said, mischief in her eyes.

“Oh, I, uh, I’m not much of a formal dancer. Probably break a few of your toes.” Harry saw Ginny’s face falter slightly and he silently cursed himself. Harry would be the first to admit he was rather hopeless when it came to girls, but even he knew he just mistakenly turned down her offer to dance with him.

“Interesting,” she said thoughtfully.

“What?”

“It’s funny that you have no problem facing a dragon but the idea of dancing with a girl scares you shitless.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault. Worst thing a dragon will do is burn you to a crisp. I imagine you could do much worse to me if I step on your toes one too many times.”

“You got me there,” Ginny said before the pair dissolved into a fit of laughter.

“Besides, it’s not the dancing that bothers me. It’s the asking the girl to dance that I’m bloody nervous about.”

“I’m glad girls don’t need to worry about that,” Ginny said.

“So,” Harry began, “I assume a ton of blokes already asked you to the ball then?” Harry said, his stomach tightening with each word.

“Perhaps,” Ginny coyly responded, twisting her hair around her pointer finger.

“And who’s the unfortunate soul that got to you first?” His voice was casual with a hint of amusement, but Harry’s stomach clenched even tighter, dreading the answer to come.

“Haven’t said yes to anyone yet.”

Harry was visibly surprised but recovered quickly enough that he didn’t think Ginny noticed. “Cutting it rather close. And I thought you gave most blokes a chance, though.”

“There’s a big difference between agreeing to go on a walk and saying yes to the biggest event of the year.” 

Harry looked away so Ginny wouldn’t see him smile. _So, she was being particular about who she chose_ , he thought to himself. The bloke would have to be really top-level, someone Ginny would feel comfortable around. And as far as Harry was concerned, no one fit that bill. Ginny was very independent and wouldn’t be the type of girl that would need to have a date. Maybe Harry could suggest she go alone, or maybe with someone as a friend. Just not with-

“I think Jean-Pierre is going to ask me,” she said, and that awful sensation in Harry’s stomach returned.

“Oh, er, ok,” he sputtered. Neither said anything for what felt like an eternity to Harry. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ginny staring intently at him. “What do you think you would say if he did?”

Ginny shrugged. “Not sure yet, am I? I still don’t know much about him, and the only person who I trust that does won’t give me anything to work with.”

“Hey! I told you he seems alright,” Harry lied, “but I don’t really know him. We weren’t exactly chums at school.”

“Really?”

“Really. ‘Sides, you don’t need me influencing your decision or telling you who you should or should not date. You’re your own person, right?”

Ginny looked at Harry for a moment and then flopped back into the couch. Harry heard her mumble something like ‘noble git’ but before he could ask her to repeat herself, Ginny stood up and started pacing in front of him.

“Maybe I should give him a chance. He is a champion after all, so that means he is intelligent and brave. Can’t go wrong with that. And I need to say yes to someone soon or else I’ll have no one left to go with except Filch. Plus, he’s easy on the eyes.” Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. “And he’s French.”

“What does being French have to do with anything?”

“They’re romantics.”

Harry quirked a brow. “Since when did Ginny Weasley need to be romanced?”

“It’s a bloody Yule Ball. Romance sort of comes with the territory at these things.”

“Well, it’s not what I’d consider a good time as a date.”

“Oh, yeah?” she challenged. Harry stood to meet her.

“Yeah. Way too stuffy and formal. Have to get dressed up in really expensive robes that you can’t spill anything on. Boring dancing.”

“I know you have an aversion to it, but dancing isn’t boring.” Ginny had continued pacing and Harry took to walking backwards in front of her. Every time Ginny turned, so did he.

“It is when it’s for a fancy ball. Trust me, I had to attend too many of them. There is nothing fun about the foxtrot.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have many dances at Beauxbaton.”

“No, these were for Ministry functions my Dad made me attend. There were _loads_ of them, and I had to go to every single one.”

“So you have a lot of experience dancing at these?” Ginny asked with a mischievous smile.

“Oh, yes, I’ve probably danced with every sixteen-year-old heiress to some distant wine vineyard in the Alsace Region. So trust me when I say that dances are incredibly dull.”

“Maybe it’s just you, since you hate dancing and all.”

“I do not hate dancing,” Harry argued. “I can cut a rug with the best of them.”

“Cut a rug?” Ginny said with a laugh. “Are you as old as Dumbledore?”

“Is that even possible? I’m just saying that I much prefer dancing in muggle clubs to actual music than to Celeste Warbeck. At least there you don’t need to get rejected by girls when you ask them to dance. You just all dance together. Not that I’m any good.”

“Ooh, this I’d love to see. Harry Potter ‘cutting a rug’ at a muggle dance club.”

“Maybe one of these days I’ll take you,” Harry said, his voice going low. They had stopped walking by this point. Ginny gulped in some air, and Harry noticed at that moment the two were standing awfully close. Harry stared intently into Ginny’s chocolate eyes, seeing himself in the reflection from her pupils.

“You’d have to ask me, and you said yourself you’re a bit frightened at the prospect.”

The words deflated Harry. They felt too on the nose for comfort. But he kept staring at Ginny, as if something was willing him to push forward.

Eventually, Ginny broke the spell. “So, um, who are you thinking of taking to this stupid Ball? Seeing as you have to go with someone.”

“Another stupid blood tradition, you ask me,” Harry moved away and sat back down on the couch, running his hands through his hair and messing it up even further. “I wish I could just go stag.”

“There’s not anyone you want to go with?” she asked, taking the seat next to him.

Harry looked away. “If I did, I doubt they’d want to go with me.”

Ginny rolled your eyes. “You know, if you want sympathy, you should at least complain about something that’s actually true. You’re a bloody Triwizard Champion! Witches are probably chomping at the bit to get you to ask them.”

“Great,” he snorted. “Just what I want. More girls after me for my _achievements_. It’d be nice if a witch just wanted to go with me because she actually liked me. Even if I wasn’t a Champion or a Potter.”

“Woe is you. Triwizard champion, desired by all the witches in school, too many galleons in your vault, and your eyes are too green.”

“Too green?” Harry asked. His eyes bulged and Ginny cringed.

“Definitely too green,” she said. “So, let’s see here. You need a date, but someone who will not be all into the whole champion thing. Maybe go with someone as a friend?”

Ginny tapped on her chin, deep in thought. Harry couldn’t help but find it irresistibly cute.

“I got it! You can take Luna.”

“Who?”

“Oh, you know Luna. You’ve seen her around. Bit taller than me. Blonde wavy hair.” Ginny gestured to her own hair, which Harry thought was more straight than wavy. Not that he was an expert in hair matters, if his own mop was any indication.

“Oh, right, I’ve seen the two of you walking together. Ravenclaw, right?” He now formed a mental picture of this Luna person. Her hair was rather wavy and long, and more white than blonde. She wasn’t entirely unappealing, though Harry did recall her wearing rather peculiar earrings. 

“She’s a bit of an odd duck, isn’t she?”

Ginny frowned. “I suppose so, but I consider that part of her charm. Besides, wouldn’t you rather go with someone unique and interesting instead of vapid and boring?”

Harry rubbed his chin, pretended to consider this, and Ginny gave him a playful shove. “Fine, I’ll take her. If she lets me, that is. And just as friends.”

“Of course,” Ginny said, her smile lighting up the room. “I’ll let her know. She’ll be so excited!”

Harry felt a bit relieved to not need to worry about a date for the dance, and the rest of the evening was spent trying to figure out how to open the Egg. Eventually they had to call it a night, and the pair walked back towards the Gryffindor common room as curfew quickly approached. As they were about to enter through the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry heard a most unwelcome voice from behind them.

“Ginny!” Jean-Pierre shouted. Harry turned and saw his nemesis leaning against the stone wall. Jean-Pierre pushed himself off and began walking towards them.

“You go on in without me,” Ginny said.

“What about curfew?” Harry asked, willing her to follow him inside.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, don’t want anyone wondering why we are walking in together, right Potter?”

Harry nodded, his eyes moving to Jean-Pierre. The boy eyed Ginny and then gave Harry a lecherous grin.

“Right, guess I’ll leave you to it.” Harry moved into the Common Room, glancing back just in time to see Ginny smile at Jean-Pierre before the door closed.

Immediately, Harry was bombarded with shouts and loud bangs. He took in the scene in front of him. Ron and Hermione were standing inches apart next to the fireplace. Ron towered over Hermione, but she looked to be the more aggressive of the two, jabbing her fingers in his chest several times.

“You’re bloody mental, you know that, right?” Ron shouted.

“That’s only because you make me that way, Ron.” Hermione huffed. “Maybe if you thought of anyone but yourself for a change, we wouldn’t be having this fight.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“What did you do wrong? Are you that thick?” Hermione’s face grew even redder. Harry slinked his way to where Neville was standing nearby. Neville was holding his hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.

“What’s going on?” Harry whispered.

“They’re fighting,” Neville replied through fits of laughter. “Nothing out of the ordinary, except Ron is digging himself in deeper than normal.”

“Well, this should be just the pick-me-up I need, then.”

“Why are you so down, dragon slayer?” Neville grinned and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Never you mind,” Harry said before turning his attention back to the night’s entertainment.

“Why do I need to ask _my_ girlfriend to the Yule Ball?” Ron said, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Oh, I don’t know, _Professor_ ,” Hermione said dryly. “Maybe because the Yule Ball comes once in a generation and a proper boyfriend would do the romantic thing and ask his girlfriend to go. Not complain about having to learn to dance and asking if we could skip it and snog in a broom closet!”

“But, Hermione, it’s going to be so dull and… fussy!”

“You are so frustrating, Ronald Weasley. Argh!” Hermione’s face grew so red Harry thought she might combust.

“Fine! Hermione Granger, would you go with me to the Yule Ball? Will that make you happy?”

“No, you dolt! What would make me happy is you understanding that just because we are in a serious relationship doesn’t mean you get to stop trying.”

“Stop trying to what?” Ron asked, his face contorted in confusion.

“To woo me!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Woo you?” Ron was no longer angry but incredibly flummoxed. Harry looked between the two and noticed all the anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by something he couldn’t put his finger on but made him feel a bit sad for them.

Hermione let out a great breath. “It’s silly, I know. And usually I’m not like this. You know that.” Ron simply nodded. “But from time to time I’d like it if you made more of an effort, like you did when we were just starting to date and you’d show up at Potions with flowers for me. The Ball felt like a great time for that. And I just wish you’d remember that I used to be worth all the fuss.”

Tears began to trickle down Hermione’s cheek and she turned and fled up the stairs, leaving a thoroughly befuddled Ron standing alone. Eventually Ron started up towards his dorm but stopped when he saw Harry.

“What are you looking at, Potter?” he sneered.

Harry smirked. “Nothing, Romeo.”

Ron narrowed his eyes and shouldered past Harry and up the stairs. Harry could hear him mutter “ _what’s a Romeo?”_ before disappearing.

The next evening Harry found himself standing outside the Ravenclaw common room, which was located on the western side of the castle at the top of the spiral staircase on the fifth floor. Harry knew he was in the right place but was confused by the fact the door did not seem to have a knob. Rather there was a simple bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle, positioned right in the middle. Not knowing what else to do, Harry lifted the knocker and let it fall against the wooden door with a loud thud. He then repeated this several times before a voice called out.

“Only those of quick wit and mind,” said a haughty woman’s voice, “are permitted to enter Ravenclaw Tower. If you wish to join your peers, you must prove yourself by answering this riddle.”

Harry groaned. “Is that absolutely necessary if I just want to ask someone a question?”

“Why, it is absolutely imperative. If only to make sure you are able to ask the _right_ question.”

“That’s some sound logic for you,” Harry muttered to himself.

“Entry requires you to be smart, not a smart arse,” the voice responded. “Now then. Answer this riddle:

_Tear off one and scratch its head,_

_What was red’s now black instead_

“Er, let’s see,” Harry pondered the question but was utterly stumped. He stood there, mouth slightly agape, staring at the knocker, struggling for the answer.

“What are you doing, Harry?” another voice called from behind him. Harry turned to see a seventh-year girl named Cho Chang staring at him. He vaguely knew of Cho, mainly that she was the Ravenclaw seeker and quite fit.

“I’m trying to find someone, but this blasted door won’t let me in.”

Cho approached the door and the woman’s voice repeated the riddle. Cho massaged her chin with her fingers before her eyes lit up.

“A match, of course,” she said with a smug smile.

“Well reasoned,” responded the voice and the common room door swung open. She walked through before turning to Harry.

“I can’t let you in, unfortunately. Who is it you want to see?”

“Her name is Luna… something,”

Cho furrowed her brow. “You mean Loony Lovegood? Why on earth would you want to see her?”

Harry scowled. “I wanted to ask her about the Ball, if you must know.”

Cho’s mouth fell open in surprise, but she quickly recovered. “You want to take her? But she’s so…odd.” Cho eyes Harry up and down smiled seductively. “You know, Harry,” she said, stepping back through the doorway towards Harry, “I haven’t been asked yet either.”

Harry decided that he really did not like this woman. “Well, I’m sure lots of people will have to go alone so don’t feel too put out. Now, could you please get Luna for me?”

Cho frowned before turning and storming off, slamming the door in Harry’s face. A short moment later the door opened again and out stepped Luna Lovegood.

Harry had seen her around the castle from time to time, but always from afar. Typically, she was either skipping or walking as though floating off the ground. Even now that she was standing in front of him, Harry felt that she moved back and forth like a pendulum. Her hair was blonde, though Harry thought it was closer to white, and wavy. Luna was nearly a head shorter than Harry. Looking at her up close, Harry begrudgingly admitted that Cho was at least somewhat right about Luna. She was a bit…odd. She had radish-earrings and wore a crown of daffodils on her head. She was not dressed in robes but instead wore a long purple dress that skimmed the floor. Luna wore no makeup, yet her cheeks were pink. Her purple eyes bulged, as if she were perpetually amazed by her surroundings.

“Hi, Luna. I’m Harry.”

“Hello, Harry. I’m aware of who you are. But it’s nice that you know who I am.”

“Er, yeah, right.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “So, listen, I imagine Ginny spoke with you about the Ball?”

“Oh, yes. It was quite nice for her to ask me out on your behalf. I imagine it’s much easier than doing it yourself.”

Harry wanted to take offense at the comment, yet he saw absolute sincerity on Luna’s face. He felt a calm wash over him.

“Right, well I still thought it was right to ask you in person. Would you want to go to the Ball with me? As friends?” Harry felt the need to emphasize this last point. 

“I’d love to go as friends!” Luna beamed, exposing her crooked smile. “It makes it much more comfortable knowing you won’t try to kiss me at the end of the night.”

“Er, right. I’m glad it’s settled then. So, I guess I’ll see you around?”

“I imagine so. We both live in the castle, after all.”

Harry laughed. He was glad to be going to the Ball with Luna with no pressure for it to mean something. And she was funny, so he figured he’d at least have a good time and a bit of a laugh.

He was about to leave when Luna said something that stilled his body. “Ginny will be so glad to know we are going together as friends.”

Harry turned back to Luna, her face still unreadably serene. “Wait, Ginny will be so glad we’re going together? Or going together _as friends_?”

Luna’s already bulging eyes protruded even further, and she put her hand gently on Harry’s shoulder. “Oh, Harry. I wouldn’t be a good Ravenclaw if I didn’t let you figure out the answer for yourself.”

With that, Luna turned abruptly and skipped back into the Ravenclaw common room, the door shutting behind her. 

Harry didn’t understand how word spread about him taking Luna Lovegood to the Yule Ball, but by the end of the week, nearly everyone he knew had asked him about it. It seemed the idea of a Triwizard champion taking Loony Lovegood to the biggest event of the year was quite the story. 

When Hermione found out, she began peppering Harry nonstop about the other girl.

“You know she believes there is an international conspiracy of vampires who secretly control the Wizengamot, don’t you?” she said one day while they were studying in the library.

“She told me it was giants.” Harry smirked back, and Hermione scowled. Harry had finally gotten the images of Hermione and Ron in the Prefect’s Bathroom out of his mind, and his friendship had returned to normal. Hermione was still cross with Ron, and Harry was smart enough to not bring his name up in her presence.

“What do you really know about her, though?”

Harry shrugged. “Not much, honestly.”

“Then why agree to go with her? Surely there are more normal girls who want to go with you.”

Harry scoffed. “Luna doesn’t view me as some prize. In fact, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me at all like that. Which is part of the appeal.”

“What boy would want to take a girl to the Ball who doesn’t fancy him?” Hermione paused and gave Harry a once over. “On second thought, you and Luna make sense. You’re both utterly mental.”

“Well, it was all Ginny’s idea, so that makes three of us.” 

Hermione smiled mischievously. “Oh, so this is Ginny’s doing. I really must have a talk with that girl.”

“Drop it, will you?” Harry muttered before returning to his notebook. They both looked up as Neville entered the library and took a seat in the corner.

“I feel bad for Neville,” Hermione said.

“What’s he got to do with it?”

“I think he was a bit disappointed to learn you were taking Luna.”

“Neville and Luna?” Harry thought about it and found that the idea made sense in his mind. He did notice looking rather glum the last few days but assumed it was due to end of term exams. “Maybe I should have a chat with him.”

“Don’t! He’d know I told you.”

Harry assured Hermione his lips were sealed, but he was already forming a plan. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for my help with the Egg,” Hermione said, and Harry could sense the disappointment in her voice.

“Oh, sorry, I was actually trying to find you the other day for exactly that, but you were, er, distracted, I suppose.”

Hermione shot him a confused look, but then suddenly her eyes went wide and her face flushed. “Right, I think I was busy with homework that day. Anyway, I’d like to help if I can.”

“That’d be great. Me and Ginny are still a bit lost.”

“ _You and Ginny_ are, are you?” Hermione grinned.

“I said drop it,” Harry said but grinned back.

The pair continued studying in silence, though Harry’s thoughts stayed far away from his assignments. Giving it up as a lost cause, Harry closed his books and decided to pull out the Marauder's Map. He searched for Ginny’s name, and frowned when he found it next to Jean-Pierre’s. They weren’t on top of each other’s like Hermione and Ron’s were, but still too close for Harry’s comfort. Suddenly in a foul mood, Harry shoved the map into his bag and gathered his books.

“I’m calling it a night,” he announced to Hermione. He left the library and headed back to the Gryffindor dorms. Upon entering, he was immediately confronted by a gaggle of boys all commiserating around the fireplace. He noticed Ritchie and Jimmy both looking rather depressed, and the Creevey brothers were consoling each other. He found Parvati Patil playing gobstones with Lavender Brown and plopped himself down next to them.

“Who died?” he asked, gesturing at the sad group of boys.

“Their romantic hopes and dreams,” Lavender replied with a giggle.

“What in the world are you on about?”

“You didn’t hear?” Parvati chimed in. “The whole castle must know by now.”

“You going to leave me hanging in suspense? Out with it.”

“ _Fine_. It’s Ginny. That French boy Jean-Pierre asked her out a few days ago and Ginny just told him yes. Can’t believe she bagged a Triwizard Champion.”


	11. Chapter 10

The Scotland sky had turned grey and dreary as December dragged on. The winds that snaked their way through the mountains and across the Black Lake penetrated the castle through the cracks in the stone façade of the castle, and the faculty had resorted to igniting hundreds of additional torches throughout the halls to keep warm. For Harry, no amount of fire could warm him as every step he took felt like being slapped with ice. 

The student body was still abuzz with news that Ginny and Jean-Pierre were attending the Yule Ball together. Every time Harry overheard a student gossiping about it, he felt a stab of pain in his stomach. Even worse was seeing them together during meals, Jean-Pierre making it a point to throw his arm over Ginny’s shoulder when he knew Harry could see them. Harry had started taking his meals very early, shoveling down his food so fast he barely had time to chew. 

But as the days grew closer to the Yule Ball, Harry’s mood seemed to sour even further. It didn’t help that Hermione seemed determined to coax Harry out of his depression by tackling the issue head on. He liked Hermione very much, but the two clearly had different ways of dealing with emotions. Harry preferred to stew silently, while it appeared Hermione enjoyed talking the issue to death.

“It’s really all your fault,” Hermione said matter-of-factly while they studied in the library. The library had become their personal safe space. Harry didn’t have to worry about Ron showing up and stealing Hermione away, for one. But at this moment, Harry wished Hermione would go off and snog Ron and leave him to study.

“How is any of this my fault?” Harry gripped his quill so tightly that the end snapped. Hermione handed him a new one from her bag.

“You should’ve asked her yourself, of course. You had ample time to do so.”

“I thought you were clever. You know why I couldn’t. I’m simply a victim of my circumstances.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “If you actually do want Ginny to like you, you’re going to need to start taking hold of your own life and stop being so passive and whiney.”

“Whiney?” Harry exclaimed in protest. “I’m not whiney and passive. Just…realistic.”

“From what you’ve told me, you could have at least warned her off Jean-Pierre. The boy sounds positively ghastly.”

“That’s underselling it.”

“Yet you didn’t tell Ginny that.” Hermione chewed the end of her own quill for a moment before setting it down. “Remind me why again?”

Harry rubbed his hand through his hair, causing it to stand up even further. “Because it’s not my place. Ginny should make her own decisions.” 

Hermione frowned at Harry. “You really are too good and noble, you know.”

“Fat load of good it’s done me. Besides, given my luck, it would only make her like him more if I said she shouldn’t date him.”

“That’s probably true.” 

The pair settled on an uncomfortable silence as each went back to their schoolwork, the only sound coming from the scratching of quill on parchment as Hermione took diligent notes. Eventually, she decided to come up for some air.

“Have you talked to Luna at all since you asked her to the Ball?”

Harry briefly wondered why Hermione seemed to care so much about Harry taking Luna Lovegood to the Ball. Luna seemed to thoroughly perplex Hermione. _Perhaps that’s why she is so interested_ , Harry thought.

“Not really,” he said with a shrug. “I tried to talk to her yesterday, but she was doing some weird dance in the courtyard and I thought it best not to bother her. I’ll probably just meet her right before it starts.”

“Hmm,” Hermione grunted.

“Have you talked with Ron recently?” Harry said with a grin.

“Oh, ha bloody ha!” Hermione gave a disturbing laugh and then threw down her quill. “Honestly, that boy is so frustrating. I wonder why I’m even with him.”

“Why _are_ you with a dolt like him?” 

Hermione threw her quill, hitting Harry in the nose.

“Don’t call him that. Only I get that privilege. I just wish he’d be a bit more thoughtful. Is that so hard to ask?”

“Suppose not, except…”

“Except what?”

Harry hesitated. He never had given relationship advice and loathed to do anything to help Ron Weasley. But looking at Hermione’s face, he found himself blurting out words, not knowing if they were the right ones to say.

“You’ve known Ron your whole life, so you know exactly who he is. And for whatever reason, you love that ginger-haired wanker. Even though he can be a bit thoughtless. Maybe you should not worry so much about the things he isn’t and appreciate the things he is.”

Hermione sat there, mouth agape. “Wow, since when did you become so insightful?”

“I’m a Triwizard champion. Part of the job description.”

“I still wish he put a bit more effort into our relationship. We’re too young for him to just be coasting.”

“Then talk to him about it. Don’t just ignore your feelings to avoid another fight.”

“Isn’t that the cauldron calling the kettle black, Harry?”

“Hey, I never said I was good at taking my own advice. Now can we please move on from you and Weasley’s love life?”

“Gladly,” Hermione said before pestering him further about the Egg, which Harry was still stuck on.

Eventually, the pair decided to call it a night and walked together back to the Gryffindor dorms. The castle was empty, with most of the students already tucked into bed. Harry and Hermione remained quiet so as not to rouse the ghosts, especially Peeves, who would take seeing two students together at night in the entirely wrong manner.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Hermione uttered the password, causing the door to swing open. She stepped inside ahead of Harry. Harry followed but quickly bumped into the back of Hermione, who had frozen where she stood. Harry glanced over her shoulder, and his draw dropped.

Throughout the common room were hundreds of candles floating. One could hardly move without bumping into one. Harry could hear the strings of a violin whining, though he could not see anyone playing. In fact, there was no one else in the common room save for one person.

Ron stood in the center of the room, the candlelight illuminating his face so every freckle stood out against his pale skin. He wore dress robes with a lacy white fabric at the cuffs, which Harry found rather old-fashioned. But overall, he found Ron looking far more presentable than ever before.

“Ron?” Hermione uttered, looking thoroughly confused.

“You said you wanted me to ask you to the Ball properly, right?” he replied with a smirk.

Hermione glanced back at Harry, her eyes filled with tears and the largest smile plastered on her face. He smiled back and walked past her towards the stairs. He caught Ron’s eyes briefly, and the boy snarled at him. Harry couldn’t blame Ron for being a little put out that his girlfriend was out late with his enemy. Which is why Harry simply shrugged and began climbing the stairs, but not before hearing the crashing of bodies against each other and the wet sounds of a disgusting snog.

With the Yule Ball now just four days away, Harry had taken to avoiding Ginny whenever possible. He deliberately sought to be paired with anyone but her during Potions and was quick to hurry back to his room immediately after dinner to avoid seeing her in the common room. Quidditch practice was the only time when Harry could not avoid Ginny, and even then, he made sure their discussions focused on Quidditch strategy and little else. All in all, things had never been more awkward between the pair. But if Ginny noticed something amiss, she never said a word to Harry.

Harry was also beginning to act rather obsessive about the Marauder’s Map. Every free second, his nose was pressed into it, his eyes darting across the parchment. He knew it was bad for him, that having confirmation of the images invading his mind would only make matters worse. Yet he persisted. Thankfully, Ginny and Jean-Pierre’s dots only appeared together in places like the Great Hall or library, surrounded by other dots.

Harry’s sour mood bled into his classes, as well. He remained mostly silent during them, only participating when forced to by his professors. Most notably, his cold demeanor returned in a vengeance in Muggle Studies. Professor Weasley had done nothing wrong, of course. In fact, with the holidays approaching, he seemed to be in a more jovial mood than ever before, if that was possible. It all came to a head in class Wednesday afternoon.

“Now class,” Professor Weasley began, “since Christmas is nearly upon us, I thought we’d spend today discussing common Muggle yuletide traditions.”

With a wave of his wand, Professor Weasley conjured a festive display of Christmas fare, including a large pine tree decorated in various ornaments and silver tinsel. With another flourish, the fireplace mantle off to the side of the classroom suddenly was adorned with stockings filled with small gifts. Several students rushed over to them and began rummaging through the stockings. Professor Weasley chuckled.

“The Christmas stockings are something I picked up from a Muggleborn friend, and my children have grown particularly fond of the custom.” He gave a wink at Ginny, who returned a smile, before he began explaining all the various Muggle traditions to the rapt class.

“In truth,” Professor Weasley concluded, “Muggle traditions vary from family to family, much like wizarding families. Yet another example of how similar we all are. I want you all to share with me your Christmas traditions, to show that even amongst us wizards, we are different, and that’s what makes us all equally special.”

The students took turns regaling the rest of the class with how they celebrate the holidays. Anthony Goldstein, a Ravenclaw, was particularly interesting as he explained Chanukah and how his family celebrated over eight nights.

“So you get presents on each night?” someone asked and Anthony nodded.

“Yeah, but usually there are rather small gifts. I usually get one big one and a bunch of socks.”

“Socks can be an excellent gift,” added Professor Weasley. “Why, just ask Professor Dumbledore.”

Confusion spread on the students’ faces and Professor Weasley chuckled as he walked behind his desk, resting his hands on the back of his chair. He then looked at Harry.

“Harry, your turn. Your mum tells me you had quite the interesting ways of celebrating the holidays.”

“I’ll pass,” he said gruffly, folding his arms across his chest.

“Oh, come now, I’m sure the class would love to hear about the French Christmas markets.”

“The class? Or you?” Harry crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. The class went deathly silent.

“Excuse me?” Professor Weasley asked.

“The markets in France aren’t like Diagon Alley, you know. They have these networks of portals in each shop that transport you around the globe. Neat bit of magic but not so great if you’re a homesick bloke from England. Christmas holidays aren’t so much fun alone in Yemen.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Harry. Moving can be tough, especially when you were so young.”

“It’s a good thing none of _your_ children had to learn that lesson.” 

The class collectively sucked in their breath. Professor Weasley narrowed his eyes at Harry and took a deep breath of his own.

“Be that as it may, I am your professor, and you need to treat me with respect. Is that understood?”

Harry grimaced. “Yes,” he said stiffly.

“Yes, Sir.”

“There’s no need to call me sir, Professor.”

The words had escaped him before he realized what he was saying. Professor Weasley’s eyes went wide.

“Detention, tonight,” he said, his voice raised, knuckles white as he gripped the back of his chair.

Harry sunk back into his own seat, his face burning. He chanced a glance at Ginny. Her mouth hung open and her face was as red as his, but Harry assumed for very different reasons. He had seen Ginny mad, but now she looked positively furious.

When class ended, she didn’t even loiter around with her friends as she usually did. She hurriedly grabbed her books and dashed out of the classroom. Harry was grateful to avoid an awkward exchange, but that was as lucky as he’d get the rest of the day.

Word spread quickly of his confrontation with Professor Weasley. His mum cornered him before Potions and berated him, adding an extra detention the following evening with her for good measure. Truthfully, Harry was relieved that was the extent of his punishment. Later, after his last class of the day, Harry saw his dad wandering the halls near Dumbledore’s office.

“Hiya, son!” James said with a smile. “Heard you had a bit of a run-in with Arthur Weasley today.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Mum already gave me a talking. Got an extra day of detention.”

James shook his head. “Thought I taught you better than that, Harry. You need to be more subtle about slagging off a professor.” He gave Harry a cheeky grin.

“You’re not angry?”

“Of what? Giving that dunderhead some backtalk? Weasley should be glad you’re even in his class. Frankly, the man could use a bit of humbling from time to time.”

Harry shook his head at the irony of his dad’s statement. Truthfully, he could not share his dad’s blasé attitude about his behavior in Muggle Studies. He felt awful as soon as the words slipped from his mouth. For all his faults, Arthur Weasley was a kind man and good teacher, who had always treated Harry better than he deserved. And for his efforts, Harry had thrown it all back in his face.

_And for what reason?_ Harry asked himself, though he knew the answer. He had been in a terrible mood all week. Every time he saw her, it felt like being stabbed in the chest. Especially when she saw her with _him_. Harry wondered if Ginny would start inviting Jean-Pierre to their Wednesday meetups. Surely, the French boy would not approve of her sneaking off every Wednesday to meet him.

It was then that Harry remembered his detention was likely to run up against his meetings with Ginny. Ironically, he was actually grateful for detention with Professor Weasley. Harry surmised he could avoid the potentially awkward encounter with Ginny and Jean-Pierre at least for one Wednesday evening. He just needed Professor Weasley to keep him long in detention. Hopefully, he was still testy from their interaction earlier in the day.

After dinner, Harry went directly to the Muggle Studies classroom and waited for Professor Weasley to arrive. When he did just minutes after Harry had taken a seat, he wore an affable expression.

“Ah, Harry,” he began, “twice in one day, I see.”

“What would you have me do, sir?” Harry asked. “Lines? Scrub the board the Muggle way?”

Professor Weasley shook his head as he shuffled some papers on his desk. “None of that tonight.

Harry furrowed his brow and tried to assess the wizard in front of him “So what am I doing for punishment?”

“Tell me about your holidays in France,” Professor Weasley sat back in his chair, the wood creaking under the weight.

“That’s not much of a punishment…sir.”

“I think we both, perhaps, lost ourselves today, Harry. I know I let my temper get the best of me, and I should have realized this was a sensitive subject for you.”

Harry shifted in his seat, but Professor Weasley continued. “Whether I’m to blame for your family’s departure or not, the fact remains that you were forced to uproot your whole life over our family tiff. And that was never fair to you.”

Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I appreciate the words, Professor, but that’s all it is, isn’t it? Doesn’t change the fact that we had to leave. My family fought in the war, not yours, and yet we’re the ones punished. No, it was never fair to _us_.”

“That’s not the whole— Professor Weasley began before stopping himself. He stood from his desk and walked around it, coming to a stop just in front of Harry. “Your family is not the only ones who suffered as a result of this feud.”

“That has nothing to do with me,” he said, voice low. 

“Now, Harry, I’d like to know exactly how this feud has affected your Christmas holidays.”

Harry stared at the older man, noticing for the first time the wisps of red hair that sparsely covered his scalp, the creases in his forehead and the many smile lines of man who had heard too many jokes in his life. Harry realized that it was tough to hate Arthur Weasley as a person. It was tough to even dislike him that much. He could easily open up to Professor Weasley, gain a better understanding of him, perhaps even come to respect the man.

But hating him because he was a Weasley was easier. It took nothing of him. It did not require Harry to question his own loyalty to his family. It was so much easier to take all the anger Harry felt in the world and transfer it to him. Anger at his parents for bringing him to Hogwarts, anger at Charlie Weasley for forcing his family out of England to begin with, anger at everyone at school for treating him like a dungbomb for so long, anger at that stupid git who got to be with her.

And there it was. In that moment, Harry realized where the anger truly laid. Not at his parents, not at Charlie Weasley or Jean-Pierre, certainly not at Professor Weasley. Not even at her. Never at her. No, Harry himself was to blame. And every moment with her was a reminder of how much he didn’t deserve her. 

All this time, Harry told himself he could not be with Ginny because he was a Potter and she was a Weasley. There could never be more than a hidden friendship. But that was a lie. It had always been a lie. The truth digging deep into his brain was that Harry did not deserve Ginny because he let others dictate his life. He couldn’t be with her because of what his father and siblings would say. What Ron and Molly would say. Every stolen glance and shared smile was unearned. And now all it brought was pain.

“Harry?” Professor Weasley’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Are you going to share?”

“I don’t think I can,” he said, his voice low. “Can I please do some lines? I’ll stay an extra hour.”

Professor Weasley gave a tight smile. “Alright, Harry. Why don’t you just sit here and work on your assignments for your classes. I’ll let you know when it’s time to leave.”

Harry gave a weak smile at the older man for the first time that evening, an understanding passing between them.

“Sorry for my behavior today, Professor,” Harry said. “I know you want this feud to go away, and maybe I’m beginning to see it the same. It’s just hard to escape the bad blood.”

“I don’t expect miracles overnight, Harry. Just small steps in the right direction.” The pair spent the rest of the time together in silence. Finally, the bell chimed, and Professor Weasley glanced at his watch. “Let’s say we call it a bit early tonight. I imagine there are far better things for you to do this evening than spend more time with me.”

He gave Harry a smile and ushered him out of the classroom.

Harry wandered the halls for some time, digesting Professor Weasley’s words. Harry was lost in deep thought and did not realize where he was walking until he saw her. Ginny was seated in front of the Room of Requirement entrance, reading a book. Her hair was plaited and hanging over her shoulder, her robes cascading down around her. She looked up and saw Harry. She smiled, as if on reflex, but then her face quickly contorted into a scowl. Ginny rose off the floor and marched over to where Harry had come to a stop.

“You have some nerve, Potter,” she said, jabbing her finger in his chest. “Talking to my dad like that. Who do you think you are?”

Harry had made his decision well before he happened upon Ginny, but staring at her righteous fury, he suddenly found his conviction faltering. Taking a deep breath before the plunge, Harry stood taller and squared his shoulders.

“We should talk,” he said.

Ginny hesitated a moment before jabbing her finger deeper into his chest. “You can start by answering my question.”

“Your dad shouldn’t have stuck his nose in my business in front of everyone.”

Whatever explanation Ginny was expecting, it was not that judging by the stunned look on her face.

“Look,” Harry continued, “I thought we could put our family histories behind us. But it’s just getting too difficult.”

“What are you saying?” Ginny said, her voice breaking slightly. Her finger was still pressed against his chest, but the pressure lessened.

“I guess I’m saying that maybe we shouldn’t hang out anymore. Stop these meetings for a while.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Harry looked away towards a stone gargoyle, wishing he could trade places with it. “I do.”

Ginny finally dropped her hand from Harry’s chest. “Why?” she asked. Harry looked at Ginny and saw her eyes were shining.

“It’s too hard, isn’t it? Risking so much, keeping this a secret from everyone. And for what reason? When we graduate eventually, I’ll probably go back to France and you’ll stay here.”

Ginny remained silent and Harry continued. “Where does the secrecy even end? We’re both going to be in our fifties, sneaking away from our families to meet at Honeydukes? Face it, Ginny. This always had an expiration date. Today with your dad made me realize that date was today. He’s a Weasley and I can’t forget that. I’m sure you feel the same about my dad. So I think it’s just easier that we go back to how it was in the beginning. We don’t need to be mean to each other, of course, but maybe we should just avoid each other as much as possible.”

Harry knew he was rambling, but he felt not talking would be infinitely less comfortable for both of them. When he finally finished, he expected Ginny to yell at him. Which is why her response surprised him so much.

“If you don’t want to be friends anymore, just say so. Don’t waste my time with your half-arsed excuses. I have better places to be.”

And with that, she shouldered passed Harry, knocking him off balance. As Ginny was about to round the corner, she stopped and turned to Harry.

“I imagine we might see more of each other after we leave school. I mean, my date to the Ball is _French_. Au revoir, Potter,” she said before disappearing.

At long last, the Yule Ball came like a fog moving along the English countryside. Harry deliberately slept in, attempting to make the day feel as short as possible. He spent most of the morning and early afternoon with Neville in the greenhouses, helping him soil a Mimbus Mimbletonia. But finally, he could put things off no longer and trudged back to his room to wash up and change into his dress robes.

After changing into the black robes with green trim that his Mum owl-ordered for him, Harry descended the stairs to find the whole lot of boys fourth year and above milling about in the common room, looking as uncomfortable as he felt. None of the girls had yet come down the stairs, and Harry heard Ron grumbling to Dean that they’d be waiting until the Ball was nearly over before the girls would be ready.

He knew Ginny would be down shortly, as well, and Harry suddenly felt very claustrophobic in the common room. 

“I’ll meet you at the Great Hall,” he said to Neville, who was tugging at the collar at his neck.

“Where are you going?”

“Figured I’d meet Luna outside the Ravenclaw dorms.”

Neville frowned but waved him off. As he exited the common room, the Fat Lady eyed Harry up and down.

“She’s a lucky witch,” she said heavily.

“Er, right, thanks,” Harry muttered back, and he sped off towards the Ravenclaw common room.

When he arrived, he saw several wizards loitering outside, all from different houses, including a few from Durmstrang. Harry took his place among the group.

Eventually, the witches emerged and paired off with their respective dates. Soon Harry was alone. A few wizards and witches came out a bit later and snickered when they saw Harry.

“You’re in for a treat, Potter,” one witch nastily called out. “I’d beg off with an illness if I were you.”

Harry ignored the witch and continued to wait patiently for Luna to come out. When she finally did, Harry couldn’t help but smile.

Luna was wearing the most colorful robes Harry had ever seen. The arms were teal with a pink lace adorning the cuffs. The body was a bright pink that shimmered when Luna swayed. But the bottom of the robes, which extended from her waist down to the floor, were simply magical. To Harry, it felt like he was seeing every color of the rainbow all at once. The colors blended seamlessly into one another. The hem of the robes was made of a thick golden material. Luna also wore rather garish-looking radishes for earrings. Overall, even someone as inept in matters of fashion as Harry could tell the ensemble clashed terribly. Yet Harry simply marveled at the outfit and Luna for having the confidence to wear it.

“You look really nice,” he found himself saying, and Luna beamed at him.

“Thank you, Harry,” Luna responded. “You look extra handsome tonight. The robes do wonders for your eyes.”

Harry turned red and he worried for a moment that Luna no longer considered this a platonic date.

“We really should be going if we don’t want to be late,” she continued. “I think the girls will want to see as much of you as possible, and I heard there might be a vampire attending.”

Or maybe not. Harry visibly relaxed, and together they walked down to the Great Hall. Witches and wizards milled about outside the Great Hall, many waiting for their dates to arrive. Harry saw Hilda, the Durmstrang champion, holding court in a circle of fellow students. She wore maroon robes with a simple yet elegant crystal necklace that blinded Harry when she turned to face him. Hilda nodded and he returned the gesture.

Harry then saw Jean-Pierre laughing with several other Beauxbaton boys. Harry begrudgingly admitted that Jean-Pierre looked rather dashing in his sky blue dress robes and golden sash. Harry casually scanned the rest of the hall for Ginny but before he could find her, a bell rang out and the doors to the Great Hall opened.

Professor McGonagall stood at the entrance wearing a robe of tartan. Despite the festive atmosphere, she still stood completely rigid and wore a tight smile.

“Students, your attention now,” she said loudly. “If you could please make your way into the Great Hall and find your seats, the Yule Ball shall commence momentarily.”

The students began to file into the Great Hall. Harry motioned for Luna to follow him in, but she put her hand on his arm.

“Not yet,” she said while standing rooted to her spot.

“McGonagall said we could go,” Harry began walking in.

“Potter!” McGonagall called out and Harry turned to her. “And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Inside, like you said.”

“Last I checked, you are a Triwizard Champion.” McGonagall glared at Harry, but he still did not understand. “And as Triwizard Champion, it is your duty to open the festivities with the first dance.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “Come again?” He struggled to get the words out.

“Just like your father. Never paid attention, either. Now if you would please join the other champions to the side while the rest of the students take their places.”

Luna yanked Harry over to where Hilda stood with her date, a rather short but pretty girl from Slytherin.

“You knew about this?” he whispered to Luna.

“Of course,” she said. “Oh, I do hope they play _A Dance with Centaurs_. It’s Daddy’s favorite.”

Harry glanced back, expecting to see Jean-Pierre, but he was not with him and the others. Instead he was over by the bottom of the staircase.

And next to him stood Ginny.

Harry had never seen a lovelier image. Ginny’s vibrant red hair was tied in an updo, with tendrils cascading down the sides of her face, ending just at her jaw. Her robes were a dark blue save for the slightest hint of pink running along the hem of the robe. 

Harry stared as Jean-Pierre leaned down and whispered something in Ginny’s ear, causing her to smirk. He then took a small flower and placed it in her hair. This made Harry want to rip the git from limb to limb. Jean-Pierre linked his arm with Ginny’s, and the pair made their way over to where Harry stood. 

“Hello, Harry,” he drawled. “I believe you are acquainted with my date, Ginny.”

“Right,” Harry ground out. He looked at Ginny. She stared right back at him, almost with an indifferent look on her face. It was then that Luna stepped forward and gave a slight curtsey.

“I’m Luna,” she said with a smile. “Harry forgot to introduce me, but he’s rather distracted.” 

Harry blushed. “Sorry, right. This is Luna. My date.”

Jean-Pierre eyed her up and down, stopping when he saw her radish earrings. He could barely suppress his laughter and had to look away. “Your date is quite…interesting, Harry. An appropriate choice.”

Harry went for his wand, but Luna clasped his hand in hers. “I’m so excited to get to dance. We rarely have such opportunities at Hogwarts, right Ginny?”

“I’ll say,” she responded. “I think the last time anyone danced in Hogwarts, Nearly Headless Nick still had his head. I love your robes, by the way. How’d you make them shimmer like that?”

The two friends fell into an easy conversation while Jean-Pierre kept his annoying grin plastered on his face, thoroughly enjoying Harry’s discomfort.

Another bell chimed and Professor McGonagall again reemerged from the Great Hall. She lined up the champions and their dates, with Harry at the end with Luna. Jean-Pierre and Ginny stood in front of them. 

“When I give you the signal, you may enter the Hall. Be sure to go directly to the center of the dance floor. No dilly dallying!”

As the couples waited patiently for their cue, Ginny turned around and glanced at Harry. The two met eyes briefly before Ginny turned back around.

“Don’t worry,” Luna whispered in his ear as he patted his forearm. “That wasn’t nearly as awkward as you thought it was.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, and he felt himself more at ease as the loud booming voice of Professor Dumbledore began announcing the champions.

“From the esteemed Durmstrang Academy, may I present Hilda Ericson!”

Hilda and her date disappeared into the Great Hall. Harry could hear a large cheer erupt from inside. Jean-Pierre escorted Ginny closer to the entrance, and Harry and Luna followed suit.

“Next,” Dumbledore’s voice bellowed, “from the illustrious Beauxbaton Academy, may I present Jean-Pierre Montague!”

Jean-Pierre stood tall and confident as he strode arm in arm with Ginny. The crowd cheered, especially the girls. Soon it was just Harry and Luna left to enter.

“Don’t be nervous, Harry,” Luna said calmly. “I’m sure this night will turn out as you hoped.”

Harry glanced into the Great Hall where Jean-Pierre gave Ginny a twirl at the center of the dance floor before stopping her in his arms and kissing her cheek to the delight of the audience.

“Fat chance,” he muttered.

“And finally,” said Dumbledore, “from our own Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, I am pleased to present Harry Potter!”

Harry and Luna entered the Great Hall to a mix of cheers and snickers. Harry knew they were laughing at his date, and he felt righteous indignation on Luna’s behalf. But when he looked at her, he saw Luna utterly elated as she took in the Great Hall before her. The jeers and laughter were drowned out by the cascade of snow sprinkling down on the students, the massive snow-white Christmas dreams stationed along the walls and the ice sculptures of Christmas merriment that sat at each table. 

Harry, too, became distracted by the wonder in front of him. Together, he and Luna made their way to the center of the dance floor where the other champions waited, along with Harry’s parents and the rest of the faculty and Ministry dignitaries. Dumbledore soon took his place in the center.

“The Yule Ball shall officially commence with the first dance from our champions.” He turned to the champions and their partners. “If you would kindly take your escort’s hand, we can begin.”

Harry turned to Luna and stuck his hand out. She clasped it with hers and brought her other hand to Harry’s shoulder. He looked around to see Jean-Pierre’s hand on Ginny’s waist and scowled. But he mimicked the French boy and placed his other hand on Luna’s side.

The soft tickle of the piano was soon emanating throughout the hall, soon accompanied by a full orchestra. Harry took that as his cue and began to lead Luna around the dance floor. He tried to ignore the sniggers from the other students as Luna’s radish earrings flew wildly around her head. Soon Dumbledore and Madam Maxime had joined, twirling each other around the dance floor. Harry’s parents also joined, James dipping Lily dramatically. Harry couldn’t help but notice Snape off to the side, sneering while he gazed intently at Harry’s parents.

The dance floor soon filled up so much that Harry kept bumping into people and stepped on Luna’s toes several ties. Though she did not react, Harry still felt bad and insisted he was not such a bad dancer.

“Perhaps I’m the wrong partner?” she asked warmly.

“No, I think I’m the wrong partner for you,” he responded before his eyes found Neville sitting at a nearby table. 

Eventually the music died down and the students all found their seats. Harry and Luna sat at the champions’ table, with Hilda and her date to his left, Dumbledore, Madam Maxime and Snape to his right, and Ginny and Jean-Pierre directly across. Harry groaned at his poor luck as he was forced to witness Jean-Pierre cozy up to Ginny, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Harry couldn’t stomach seeing Ginny return his affections and averted his eyes to the rest of the Great Hall.

The tables seemed to go on for miles, all adorned with a silver linen and fine china. Harry saw Hermione sitting at a nearby table with Ron, who was too busy chatting with Dean and Seamus to notice how bored Hermione looked.

“How have you been finding your classes at Hogwarts, Harry?” a voice interrupted his thoughts and Harry turned to see Dumbledore looking at him intently.

“Er, they’re fine, I suppose. Not too different than Beuaxbaton.”

“’Arry was one of our best students,” Madam Maxime chimed in with a warm smile. “I’m sure he’s acclimated himself quite well here.”

This earned a snort from Ginny, and all heads turned in her direction. Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“Got something to say?” he asked with an edge to his voice.

“Just find it funny to think you were a good student at one point,” she retorted, and Jean-Pierre smiled.

“I had many classes with him,” he added, “and I think he coasted on his name.”

An awkward silence fell over the table as Harry turned bright red, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand, even with his Headmaster only a few feet away.

“Harry is a fine wizard,” Luna added in defense. “He was chosen as a champion, after all.”

“Well reasoned,” Dumbledore said. “And from what Professor Potter says, you have a mind for Potions.” Dumbledore glanced at Snape, who merely glowered.

“Certainly, such skill came from his mother’s side,” he said coolly.

“I suppose being a git is a skill he got from his dad,” Ginny said under her breath, but loud enough for the table to hear. Snape failed to hide his grin.

“Thanks for the kind words, Headmaster,” Harry said, pretending he didn’t hear Ginny’s comment. “Considering how difficult Potions can be and all. I mean, it’s not like being good in the easier subjects, like, say, Muggle Studies.” He paused to stare directly at Ginny, goading her to respond. But she merely stared back, lips pressed together.

“Alas,” Dumbledore said to no one in particular, “some rivalries cannot soften with time. But enough of that, let’s tuck in.”

With the snap of his fingers, a great feast appeared on Harry’s plate. All the other guests at the table looked on in wonder while Dumbledore had a cheeky grin. Grateful for any distraction, he focused intently on his food as conversation flowed more freely around him. Occasionally, he would chance a glance in Ginny’s direction, only to frown when Jean-Pierre wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Harry’s stomach tightened with every stroke of his thumb on her arm.

When the last of the food was cleared from the table, Dumbledore stood and offered his hand to Madam Maxime, who graciously accepted.

“This _is_ a ball,” he said, “so I think some dancing is in order, no?”

Harry watched as the other couples mimicked Dumbledore, with Jean-Pierre and Hilda extending hands to their dates. Ginny smiled and accepted, and the two followed Hilda and her Ravenclaw partner onto the dancefloor, leaving Harry, Luna and Snape.

“Did you want to dance?” Harry asked Luna, not sure of what he wanted her response to be. Personally, he was in no mood to have any fun tonight.

“It does look like fun,” Luna responded, “but I don’t think you would enjoy dancing with me.”

“Sure, I would!” 

Luna smiled and patted Harry’s cheek.

“No, you wouldn’t. But that’s quite alright. We can have fun sitting here and staring at the other couples dancing.”

Harry felt rather low at that moment. But then he peered over Luna’s shoulder to see Neville sitting alone at his table, looking rather forlorn.

“I’m really sorry for being such a shit date, Luna, but maybe this night won’t be a total loss.” He nodded towards Neville. “I think he would really enjoy dancing with you.”

Luna gave Neville a once-over. “Yes, I agree dancing with me would lift his spirits. You don’t mind?”

“Course not. At least one of us should have a good time at this bloody ball.”

“You’re very kind, Harry. Much kinder than the French boy. Though you both are equally good-looking.”

“Er, thanks, I think.”

Luna gave Harry a kiss on the cheek and skipped over to where Neville sat. She leaned down and whispered something in his ear and Neville gave a big smile. He grabbed Luna’s hand and together they made their way to the center of the dance floor, Neville receiving several pats on the back as they wound their way through the crowd.

Harry smiled at the pair; his spirits momentarily lifted. But then his eyes found Ginny dancing way too close to Jean-Pierre and his surly mood returned with a vengeance. He briefly saw Ron with a similar sour face as he watched the two before Hermione diverted Ron’s attention back to her.

Harry realized that he now shared the table with Severus Snape, who looked as miserable as he did. Harry noticed Snape’s attention again focused on his parents, oddly enough. His face looked a mix of anger and sadness. Brief images assaulted Harry of himself in Snape’s seat. There the two sat in their misery, acting more like petulant children than adults.

Harry suddenly felt incredibly claustrophobic, rising swiftly from his seat and snaking his way through the crowded dance floor. He tugged at his neck collar as he made his way out of the Great Hall and into the courtyard, the winter air whipping against his cheeks. The noise from the ball was now a faint muffle. Harry brushed snow off a nearby bench and cast a warming charm before taking a seat.

It seemed his efforts to avoid Ginny and renew their open hostilities had been a complete failure. Trading barbs across the dinner table did little to tamper the pain in his heart. The Christmas holidays would be a welcome distraction, but Harry knew it would be temporary. Soon he’d be right back at school, forced to see Ginny fall deeper and deeper in love with his nemesis. Perhaps he could devote himself fully to winning the Triwizard Tournament and at least hold that over Jean-Pierre’s smug head.

Harry sat in the courtyard for some time, his fingers, ears and nose beginning to turn pink as the temperature dipped. He was about to head back inside to wish Luna a good night before retiring to his dorm room when voices caught his attention.

“It’s bloody freezing out here!” The voice of Ginny could be heard from across the courtyard. Harry quickly stood up and darted behind a nearby tree.

“Allow me to warm you,” the smarmy voice of Jean-Pierre answered. Harry inched his head out in time to see Jean-Pierre come up behind Ginny and envelop her, placing his hands on her bare shoulders.

Ginny shook him off and turned to face him. “I’m good, thanks. Maybe we should head back in. I saw Luna and Neville dancing. They looked so cute together.”

Jean-Pierre rolled his eyes. “Why would you want to hang out with those two? Why not spend some time alone with me out here? We can dance under the stars.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “We could do that inside too. And be warm.”

“Perhaps you are right. It iz too cold out here. Why not move this to my room?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Ginny started back inside but Jean-Pierre grabbed her elbow.

“You have been cold all night,” he complained. “Normally you are such a, what’s the word… _firecracker_. But tonight, you are as icy as this dreadful country.”

“Maybe it’s not the country but the company making me so frosty.”

Jean-Pierre ignored her words. “I know how to warm you up.” He grinned, leaning in to kiss her. Ginny ducked under his arms.

“And I know a better way, which involves being _inside_ where it’s actually warm.”

“Do not be like that. It iz the Yule Ball. I am the Champion and you are my _l’amour._ Let us express just how special tonight iz in my room.”

Harry could barely stomach any more, yet oddly could not tear himself away from their discussion.

“Why don’t you express how special tonight is in your room _alone._ I’m sure you’re the champion of _that_.”

Harry couldn’t stop himself from snorting, and both Ginny and Jean-Pierre turned in his direction. Ginny’s eyes went wide, and her mouth was agape, but it soon turned into a scowl.

“Enjoying the show, Potter?” she sneered.

Harry stepped out from behind the tree. “I wasn’t—“ he began, but he truly had no excuse.

“Get lost, Potter,” Jean-Pierre barked. “Go find your freakshow of a date.”

Harry immediately closed the distance between him and Jean-Pierre. He and Ginny simultaneously pulled out their wands and pointed it at the French boy. Ginny pressed the tip of her wand under his chin.

“What did you say?” she asked, venom in her voice.

Jean-Pierre threw up his hands and slowly backed away. Harry and Ginny followed.

“You both are crazy,” he said before looking at Ginny. “It iz your loss. I will find a girl more appreciative of being with a Champion.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Ginny shouted as Jean-Pierre ran off back inside, leaving Harry and Ginny standing in the cold winter night.

“What _were_ you doing here?” Ginny finally asked after what felt to Harry like an eternity of silence.

“What do you care?” he responded, failing to keep the bite out of his voice.

“No reason. Just curious why someone who wants nothing to do with me was spying on me is all.”

“I wasn’t-I just came out for some air.”

“So you just wanted to freeze your bits off? It had nothing to do with me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Weasley.”

“You know what?” Ginny exclaimed, stamping her foot in the snow. “I don’t care. Go on keep playing whatever game it is you think you’re playing. I couldn’t care less.”

She turned on her heels and began marching off, the crunch of her feet on the snow echoing through the courtyard. But just as Ginny was about to disappear back into the castle, she stopped and stood still. Harry could see her shoulders rise and fall and a plum of vapor rising up above her head.

She turned and marched back to Harry, stopping a wand-length away from him.

“Before I officially never talk to you again except to hex you, answer me one question.”

Harry nodded.

“Why did you never say anything about Jean-Pierre?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but found the words would not come out. Truthfully, he didn’t know the best way to answer. He hadn’t exactly been honest with Ginny these past weeks and wasn’t sure he even knew himself the true reason. In the end he decided the easiest course was to play dumb.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Ginny said with an edge to her voice. “This whole time you were pretending not to know much about him, but we both know that’s a load of bollocks.”

“How did you find out?” he asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“That ponce wouldn’t shut up about you. How terrible you are at Quidditch, how he beat you at some Transfiguration test your fourth year. Honestly, I think Jean-Pierre has some sort of weird crush on you.”

“Can’t blame him on that one.” Harry immediately winced. Now was no time to be cheeky.

“Clearly, his brains were addled. But that’s not the point.”

“Well then get to already,” Harry huffed.

“The _point_ ,” Ginny said rather pointedly, “is that we were friends and you lied to me. And I want to know why.”

“Friends? Friends don’t need to meet in secret.”

“Which you agreed to!” Ginny interjected.

“Face it, our entire friendship was based on a lie. You were always a Weasley and I’m a Potter. So who cares if I didn’t tell you how I really felt about that git?”

“You’re the only git I see right now,” Ginny said, hands placed firmly on her hips.

The two stared at each other, brown eyes boring into green. Snow had begun to accumulate on Harry’s head, flakes dropping down onto his lashes. 

“Tell me why,” Ginny repeated in a low voice.

“Damnit, Ginny!’ Harry shouted, stepping close enough where the snow from his hair now fluttered down onto her shoulders. “What do you want from me?”

“Tell. Me. Why.”

“I don’t know, alright?” His voice shook, a mound of snow falling off the nearby gazebo roof. Harry’s eyes bored into Ginny’s, imploring her not to push further. Harry never felt so vulnerable, his feelings bubbling just under the surface, ready to explode at the merest nudge from Ginny. And when she met his gaze with equal intensity, the flames reflected in her eyes flaring wildly, Harry broke.

“I guess I didn’t want to make the decision for you. We’re always talking about how our families try to make choices for us, you know. Live their lives. I suppose I didn’t want you to look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she whispered.

“Like someone trying to protect you all the time. So I shut my mouth. Even if it meant—“ Harry stopped himself.

“Even if it meant what?” Harry only just noticed that Ginny had gotten closer, so that her cold breath crashed against his face.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“So that’s what all this was, was it? Just you being noble once again? That’s why, even though it’s arse backwards, we can’t even be friends in secret anymore.” 

Harry hesitated a moment before responding. “Right. That’s what it was always about.”

Then, Ginny did something Harry did not expect. She laughed. Loudly, as though she couldn’t keep it in. Harry grew increasingly angry as Ginny doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

“Mind telling me what you’re having a laugh about?”

“Nothing,” she breathed out between belly laughs. “It’s just…Potters are known for their bravery, right? On the front lines against Voldemort…. while us Weasleys are supposed to be cowards!” Ginny bent over now, struggling to catch her breath between the fits of laughter.

“That’s right,” Harry said, chin tilted high.

“And yet here you are,” Ginny continued, “no one around but me and you still can’t be honest. Some hero you are!” Ginny finally stopped laughing.

“You’re mental, you know that. I told you the truth!”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s the truth you’ve been telling yourself. But we both know it’s not all the truth.”

Harry had had enough of Ginny’s taunting. He angrily shouldered past her and headed towards the warmth of the castle.

“Running away? So _brave_ of you. You know, he might be a complete git, but at least Jean-Pierre has the bollocks to go after what he wants.”

Harry stopped in his tracks. Turning around, he glared at Ginny. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” she challenged back. “You talk about doing what you want, not simply following the path your dad set out for you. But when you have that chance, you’re as useless as a Cleansweep in the rain. You know when I started to think you were more than just a bloody Potter, someone I might actually _like_? When you tried out for Quidditch. I never saw a Seeker like you. It’s like you didn’t even think, just acted on instinct. Most blokes would be scared to death of pulling off a feint like that, but you saw the snitch and just took what you wanted. No hesitation. So I thought, ‘now there’s a boy that might be worth it.’ And then there was the time when I pissed you off something righteous enough for you to enter the bloody Tri-wizard tournament! The dumbest and bravest thing I ever saw, until you fought that dragon, of course.”

Ginny then got right into Harry’s face and shoved her finger in the middle of his chest with a force so hard for her diminutive size that it surprised Harry off balance, forcing him to stumble backwards.

“Where is that Harry? Because all I’ve seen since then is a coward. And I don’t have time for cowards who spend all their time worrying about what other people might think and don’t just go for what they want. So I’m done, Harry. I’m done waiting for you to get your head out of your arse and figure out exactly what you want. Good bye!

Ginny turned and stomped away, her hair whipping wildly behind her.

Harry stood rooted to his spot. _Did a Weasley just call me a coward?_ Harry grew angry at the insinuation. _How dare she call me a coward?_ _Wasn’t she just as big of one for agreeing to keep their friendship secret in the first place?_

Harry grew so angry he did not realize his feet began to move. He did not notice the crunch of the snow beneath his feet or the blistering cold wind smashing like pin pricks on his face. 

_She wants a hothead_ , he thought. _I’ll give her a hothead._

Harry picked up his pace and caught up to Ginny as she stepped onto the stone corridor just in front of the entrance back into the castle. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. She stared at him wide-eyed, but Harry sensed the slightest hint of a challenge behind her eyes.

He was prepared to tell her off. Call her a hypocrite. Shout every insult he could think of. She was a Weasley, after all, someone he grew up detesting, someone who had no right to call him a coward.

But in that moment, as he stared down at her, noticing the way her nostrils flared out slightly and how her freckles seemed more pronounced across her cheeks when touched by the light of the torches, all sense of thought and reason escaped Harry. He could not think, only act. The words escaped his lips before his mind could stop him.

“How’s this for being brave?” he uttered deeply before pressing his lips against hers.


	12. Chapter 11

Ginny’s lips reacted instantly, moving in perfect sync with Harry’s. There was no fight for dominance in the kiss; it was a dance where each partner took turns leading. Harry did not know whether they had been locked together for seconds, or if days had passed as though he was waking from a long, heavy sleep, but he knew he never wanted this feeling to end. 

A loud bang sounded from across the way, and Harry and Ginny sprung apart. He turned to see several fourth years racing out of the castle, flinging noisemakers at each other before disappearing around the corner. Harry turned back towards Ginny and smiled.

“Bout time,” she said with a cheeky grin.

“The train station,” Harry said, and Ginny blinked.

“Which train station?”

“At King’s Cross. That’s when I knew I liked you.”

Ginny’s eyes went wide. “Really? And you’re just _now_ doing something about it?”

“Reckon so,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, I was just waiting for you to get your head out of your arse.”

Ginny opened her mouth, but then shut it immediately. She took a few steps back, reached behind her back, and then chucked a perfectly-aimed snowball at Harry’s face, knocking his glasses askew.

He straightened himself out, readjusting his glasses to see Ginny with her hands on her hips, looking both incredibly inviting and rather dangerous.

“Last chance to be noble, Potter. You sure you want some of this?”

“Are you mad? You think I can’t handle you, Weasley? Did you forget about the first task already?”

Ginny merely smirked and let out a very unladylike snort. “That was just a dragon.”

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” he growled before grabbing a handful of snow and launching himself at Ginny, who darted out of his path. The two chased each other before Harry finally got the upper hand and wrestled Ginny to the ground, putting his weight on top of her. He extended both arms to the ground on either side of her head. They both breathed heavily, their red noses millimeters apart.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Ginny asked between exhales. “My brothers? Your _dad_? My _mum_?”

Before Harry could answer, Ginny swiped his left arm out from under him and rolled Harry over onto his back. She straddled his waist and pinned his wrists to the ground, his robes now fully soaked. Harry took a moment to consider the situation he now found himself in.

“Abso-bloody-lutely, Ginny,” he said before leaning up to kiss her softly.

The next morning Harry woke up late after the most pleasant night’s sleep since he arrived at Hogwarts. Around him, his dormmates were frantically shoving clothes into their trunks and shouting out for missing schoolbooks. Harry put on his glasses and shuffled out of bed, ambling over to the washroom and splashing cool water on his face.

Harry appreciated having both parents at Hogwarts since it meant they didn’t have to make the long trip back to France for the holidays. Spending Christmas in Scotland was a welcome change from the mild holidays in southern France, and Harry was already looking forward to Christmas snow.

After changing into his robes, Harry headed downstairs for breakfast. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he ran straight into Ginny.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Hi.”

Ginny smiled and rolled her eyes. “You’re going to be terrible at this, aren’t you?”

“Positively dreadful.”

They stared at each other for a moment, a wave of energy seemingly drawing them closer to each other. Harry unconsciously tilted his lips towards hers, and Ginny inched closer in response. “We probably should figure out how we’re going to go about doing this…thing.” Ginny gestured between them as their lips were mere millimeters apart. A wave of realization washed over Harry and he moved back.

“Room of Requirement after breakfast?” she said after exhaling deeply.

“Don’t you need to pack for the train?”

“No, Hermione made sure I was ready to leave before we even got dressed for the Ball. You?”

“No need,” Harry said with a shrug. “Staying here for the holidays.”

“That’s convenient. But what about your brothers and sister?”

“Simon is just across the way in Wales so he will come up and take a room at the inn. Rosie is opening the shop in Hogsmeade so she’s already here. And Jack is Merlin-knows-where, so who can guess if he’ll show up. What about your family?”

“Oh, I fully expect another Christmas at the Burrow where I can’t get a minute in the washroom,” Ginny said, though her eyes lit up; Harry assumed she was not as miffed as she wanted him to think. “Mum’s been sending Howlers every other day to get Charlie in from Romania, and Bill and Fleur spent last holiday at her parents in France so Mum insisted they come to England this year.”

“What about the twins?”

Ginny laughed. “They were the only ones Mum was trying to keep away! Last year they turned Mum’s roast into a fried platypus and spiked the pumpkin juice. They got Percy so pissed he admitted he was having an affair with a coworker’s wife! If you knew anything about Percy, you would have been scandalized. The git wouldn’t disobey a Ministry regulation for anything and here he was, shagging the Head of Weights and Cauldrons’ old lady! It was the best Christmas ever. Should be tough to top this year.”

“Well, now you have some scandalous news of your own,” Harry said, wiggling his brow. But Ginny’s smile disappeared. “Did I mess things up already?” Harry asked, his voice higher-pitched.

“No, it’s just we really need to figure this thing out, don’t we?”

“S’pose so,” Harry replied. There was a clamoring of noise coming from above them. Harry and Ginny jumped apart before several younger students emerged from the stairs and burst past them and out the door. “Room of Requirement after breakfast it is.”

Ginny nodded. “I need to wait for Hermione. See you later?”

Harry nodded and walked past Ginny, brushing her arm with his fingers as he exited the Common Room.

Breakfast had never tasted better for Harry. The melons seemed sweeter, the bacon crispier. He even found himself enjoying the porridge, helping himself to seconds. Hermione, who sat across from him, kept looking up from her book to give Harry odd looks.

“What?” he finally snapped at her.

“Nothing, you just seem…odd today.”

Harry felt his neck grow hot. “I feel fine. Another typical day.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry. “You’re hiding something, aren’t you?”

“No. Look, I’m just excited for the holidays. Going to be fun, innit? No Weasleys around to bother me.”

“Humpf,” Hermione grunted before turning back to her book. Harry chanced a glance down the table towards Ginny, who had her friends bent over in laughter as she mimicked the History professor. He wanted to walk over and just be near her but knew he couldn’t. Not yet, at least until they had a proper discussion on how to announce their situation.

_ Situation _ .

There was no better word to describe it. They were not officially dating. Harry was sure a single snogging session didn’t qualify as a relationship; otherwise he’d have about a half a dozen exes. But it felt like more than just a casual thing between them. Harry would not risk so much on something so fleeting and meaningless. He just hoped Ginny felt the same way.

Eventually the Great Hall emptied as students rushed back to their dorms to get their trunks. Harry made his way to the Room of Requirement, and Ginny joined soon after. Hand in hand, they entered and made themselves cozy on a couch.

They didn’t speak; words felt unnecessary in that moment. Harry just wanted to savor the moment of Ginny curled like a cat into his body, her hair covering his arm as it casually rested on her shoulders.

“Is it wrong of me to not want to go home for Christmas,” Ginny said as she stroked Harry’s arm. “Christmas at the Burrow was always my favorite time of year, and now it’s the last place I want to be.”

“And where do you want to be?” Harry asked.

“Is it too pathetic to say right here?”

“Terribly pathetic, which makes us a pair of pathetic saps.”

“You’re so lucky you don’t have to leave. Hogwarts at Christmas is quite impressive, so I hear from the twins. You know they’re staying in Hogsmeade this Christmas?”

“Yeah?”

“Something about buying out Zonkos. Mum nearly had a fit when they told her they’d only be around for dinner and Christmas morning.”

“Do you open presents the morning or night before?”

“Morning, always,” Ginny said. “What sort of loonies do it Christmas Eve?”

Harry blushed and looked away. Ginny pushed off him. “Really? Your family really is bloody mental!” she said with a laugh.

“Oi! What’s wrong with opening them the night before. We get a nice lie-in Christmas day.”

“Potters are so odd.”

“So I guess we should end it now?” Harry said with a smirk. “Irreconcilable differences. Can’t agree on how to raise the kids with Christmas.”

Harry snapped his mouth shut, groaning internally for what he just said.

Ginny gave him a curious look. “Planning our future already, Potter? Haven’t even agreed what this is, have we?”

“Er—”

“You must really be desperate to get a leg over if you’re already talking kids.” Ginny raised her eyebrows, as if challenging Harry.

“And risk them having your hair? No thanks.”

“Oi, my hair is loads nicer than that messy mop you have!” Ginny feigned indignation and launched a pillow at Harry. He darted under the throw and tackled Ginny onto the couch. The tips of their noses brushed against each other. Electricity passed between them and Ginny closed the short distance between their lips.

Several minutes later, Harry and Ginny emerged for air, straightening their clothes in the process.

“So…” Harry began without knowing where to go.

“So…” Ginny replied. “Any ideas on a plan?”

“Not really my style. I usually just rush into things without thinking.”

“A man after my own heart.” Ginny grinned. “But we should figure this out, no?”

“Yes, right.” Harry paused for several moments. “Maybe you should start.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Fine. First off, have you told anyone about last night yet?”

“No way. Don’t really have anyone to tell, for one.”

“What about Neville?”

Harry laughed. “Not really that sort of friendship where we tell each other things like that.”

“Merlin forbid two friends share their feelings,” Ginny said. “Well neither have I, though I’m sure Hermione will suss it out in no time.”

“Which means soon Ron will know,” Harry added.

“Not for sure. Hermione is good at keeping a secret.”

“And how many secrets of yours has she kept?”

Ginny looked up and tapped her finger to her chin. “I’m thinking.”

“That makes me feel loads better,” Harry deadpanned.

“Oh, give it a rest. None of those boys were really worth the cloak and dagger to confide in Hermione.”

“Oh?” Harry said, feeling a bit hopeful.

“Anyway,” Ginny continued, “with me leaving today, we have at least the holidays to figure out how we are going to tell people. And while I’d love to shout our love from the top of the mountains, I’d prefer not to ruin Christmas by announcing it to my Mum and brothers.”

“Good point, and same, of course. Don’t think Dad would be too chuffed. But—Harry stopped.

“But what?” Ginny pushed.

“Nothing, nevermind. So we don’t say anything yet.”

But Ginny was determined. “Finish what you were going to say,” she demanded.

“It’s nothing, just…are you sure we need to say anything at all?”

“Why not? You’re not getting scared off already, are you? Was all that you said yesterday just talk?”

“No! Not at all. Look, I’m just asking if we should go through the trouble when we aren’t even officially dating.”

“What are we doing, exactly then?” Ginny asked with an edge in her voice.

“Snogging, mostly.”

Ginny shot up off the couch and put her hands on her hips. “Is that all I’m good for? A few nice snogs?”

Harry threw up his hands. “That’s not what I’m saying!”

“Guess you’re not much different than most of the blokes here, huh Potter. Just want to take what you want and then piss off. Honestly, I thought—But Ginny couldn’t finish her thought as Harry had jumped out of his seat and covered her mouth with his hand.

“Would you shut up for a moment?” 

Ginny’s eyes went wide and Harry could swear he saw a small speck of red in them before he yelped out in pain.

“Owww!” He looked down at his hand, which was now red. “You bit me!”

“I’ll do more than that if you try to shut me up like that again!”

“Can you just stop and let me explain before biting me again?”

Ginny crossed her arms. “Fine.”

“Ok, then,” Harry said as he started pacing. “Look, I’m not that experienced with these types of situations. And you said you don’t really date anyone that long, right? Well, what if we date for a bit and you realize I annoy you like all the others, or I’m too much a Potter for you to deal with?”

“I won’t—“ Ginny tried to interject but Harry held up his hand.

“I have no bloody clue what this is between us, or any idea what I’m doing here. But I do like you. And I’m willing to be open about us. But not if this is just some fling for you. So if you just want to snog a bunch and keep it casual, just let me know now. I dunno if I’m ok with that, but I reckon I’ll have all holiday to figure it out. And it means we probably shouldn’t say anything to our families and such.”

Harry let out a deep breath.

“You finished?” Ginny said, arms crossed.

“I think so,” Harry responded.

She launched herself at him, attacking his lips with a fervor Harry thought only reserved for the Quidditch pitch. He tried to keep up with her ministrations, but decided it was a lost cause and let himself get lost in the moment.

When Ginny finally pulled away, she gave him a grin that stretched ear to ear.

“I have no idea what I’m doing too,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. “But this is definitely not just some casual snogging. I’m in if you are, Potter.”

“It will disappoint so many other girls to learn I’m off the market, though.”

“I’m sure Romilda Vane will be crushed.”

“In that case, I’m definitely in.” Harry gave Ginny a soft, gentle kiss.

“We should go into this with eyes open, don’t you agree?” she asked. “I mean, neither of us have a great track record with dating. You’re not wrong that I haven’t had anything worth lasting past a couple weeks.”

“Longer than my recent history,” Harry added. “So what do you suggest?”

“The stakes are definitely higher, I’ll admit. And I still don’t want to make any waves for no good reason. So let’s keep this to ourselves through the holidays, then try dating and see how it goes. If two weeks go by and we’re sick of each other, or better yet, I’m sick of you since I’m so utterly delightful, then no harm done. We go back to friends and none the wiser.”

“That sounds awfully strategic of you. Do you really think we can do this? An actual relationship between a Potter and a Weasley?”

“Sure,” she said with a shrug. “That’s probably Fred and George’s influence, though. Growing up with them, you sort of start thinking anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.”

“We’ll need a lot of nerve, won’t we?”

Ginny leaned in and pressed her lips softly to his. “That’s what makes it so fun.” She drew back and Harry followed with his lips, deepening the kiss.

“When do you leave?” he asked, catching his breath.

“Soon,” Ginny responded, fingering the collar of Harry’s shirt. “Train leaves at half past eleven.”

“Do you want me to see you off? Chase after the train?”

Ginny snorted. “You just reminded me of Ron’s first year when I did just that at King’s Cross.”

“You must’ve been adorable back then. What happened?” Harry smirked and Ginny swatted his arm.

“Prat.” They fell into a comfortable silence. Harry enjoyed this aspect of his friendship with Ginny, how they didn’t need to constantly fill the silence with inane chatter. They seemed so comfortable just to be in each other’s presence. It reminded him a bit of his parents, how he’d sometimes sneak downstairs at night for a snack only to find them curled up on the couch, staring at the fire. Neither would say a word, but Harry sensed the love radiating off them. Deep down, he knew he longed for that same feeling.

Eventually, Ginny spoke up. “How do you want to handle the holidays, then? I realized we never actually figured that part out.”

“Erm, I’ll write you?” Harry offered.

“And won’t that look suspicious?”

“Just tell your family it’s a boyfriend. Won’t be a lie, will it?”

Ginny stared off to the side, deep in thought. “Ron will insist on knowing who I chucked his best mate for, no? I could just tell him to bugger off and mind his own business. Yes, that sounds like the more fun option than making someone up.”

“Agreed. Never turn down an opportunity to rile that plonker.”

“Oi!” Ginny shouted. “Only _I_ get to call him that.”

Harry nodded, sufficiently chastised. He often forgot that Ginny was still a Weasley and might not take kindly to him insulting her family members, even if they were utter plonkers. “I should have enough privacy here so long as you tell your owl to deliver to my dorm room and not the Great Hall.”

“I think Pig can handle that.”

Harry quirked a brow. “Pig?”

“Short for Pigwidgeon.”

“That’s a horrible name, you know.”

“Everyone says that,” Ginny said, “but they can all shove off for all I care. I like it.”

“I like that you like it. I’d probably name him Frank or something boring.”

“Not Harry, Jr?”

Harry shook his head. “Too obvious. Maybe Herbert?”

“Or something posh like Brently,” Ginny suggested.

“Brently Higglesbottom, the third,” Harry said in a formal voice, and the two dissolved into laughter.

Ginny wiped the tears from her eye and leaned into Harry on the couch. She frowned. “It just dawned on me that I’m going to miss you something fierce.”

“Yeah, Hogwarts won’t be nearly as red for my liking.”

“And whose nice bum will I get to stare out for a whole month?”

“You think my bum is nice?” Harry smiled widely.

“It does the job,” Ginny replied, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I’ll write you,” Harry assured her, and he felt Ginny sink a bit further into the crook of his body.

“You hate writing, though.”

“That’s only because I have Hermione reading over my shoulder at the ready to correct my punctuation and scold me to write an extra two feet.”

“Excuse me,” Ginny began, sounding uncannily like Hermione, “but I require at least three feet of parchment on how much you like me, as well as six citations.”

Harry laughed and hugged Ginny tightly. “I’m going to miss you something really fierce too, you know.”

The paired spent the remainder of their time laughing and kissing, but soon the fire faded and it was time for Ginny to depart. Harry stayed behind, Ginny giving him a long look before exiting the Room of Requirement. He strolled over to the fire and threw another log on, the flames bursting high.

Harry lost himself in thought. The last few months had been the wildest of his short life. He could never have imagined finally getting himself a proper girlfriend, and a Weasley, no less! The smile that played on his face soon turned into a chuckle and then an outright burst of laughter. Hogwarts truly was a magical place.

With the last of the students boarding the Hogwarts Express and waving their goodbyes to Hagrid, the castle became eerily quiet. The ghosts that regularly floated through the walls were gone, seemingly taking a holiday of their own. The students from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang had departed earlier in the morning along with their headmasters. Even many of the teachers had departed the grounds. Ginny had mentioned to Harry that Professor Weasley would not remain at the school, as he was most adamant with Dumbledore that he be allowed to return home for the holidays.

As it was, Harry’s parents, Professor Dumbledore, and a few other professors remained. And Mr. Filch and his annoying cat, of course. Though Harry wasn’t sure how they would busy themselves now that there were no students to harass.

Harry enjoyed having the castle mostly to himself, at first. He spent his first day streaking across the Quidditch pitch, exploring hidden areas of the castle, and going on an adventure with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest, much to his Mum’s chagrin. 

“I’d love fer ya to meet Aragog, ‘Arry,” Hagrid said one days while they were deep in the forest.

“I’d love to meet him,” replied Harry. “Is he one of the centaurs?”

Hagrid gave a booming laugh that shook the trees. “No, sir. He’s an Acromantula, of course! Cuddliest little thing, he is. He’d just love to meet yer acquaintance, Harry.” But Harry had already started backing away.

“Gotta go, Hagrid!” he called as he ran away from the half-giant. “Just forgot I have homework to do.”

“Homework during Christmas?” Hagrid called after but Harry pretended he couldn’t hear as he made his way back to the castle.

On his way back to his dorm, he quite literally ran into his parents.

“Oof,” James said as he leaned against the wall for balance. “What’s the rush, son?”

“Sorry, Dad. Hagrid wanted to show me his pet spider.”

“Ah, say no more.”

“We were going to head to Hogsmeade,” Lily said, “and stop in on Rosie at the shop. Would you like to come?”

“I’d love to, Mum, but I think I should get a head start on my school work.”

Lily eyed Harry closely as he put on his most sincere face. “Who are you and what did you do to my son?”

“We’ve lost him, Lils,” James added, putting the back of his hand to his head. “My youngest! So much hope and now he’s a……bookworm! Alas!”

James and Lily embraced each other and pretended to weep. Harry merely rolled his eyes.

“You two should start a drama club or something.”

“What do you say James? Maybe we can put on a little Romeo & Juliet?” Lily glanced at Harry, and he swore he saw a sparkle in her eye. She quickly winked at him, and he felt his insides go momentarily cold.

“Which one was that? The one where he kills his dad?”

“No, James. That’s Hamlet.”

“It’s all French to me,” James quipped before turning to his son. “Well, if you change your mind, that’s where we’ll be. You really should stop in on your sister during the break.

“I know, I know.”

“Your brothers should be arriving any minute now,” Lily said as she bundled up her winter robes. “And make sure you are dressed by 7 for dinner.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not some ickle first-year, Mum. Still don’t understand why we couldn’t go to Remus’ for holiday dinner.”

“Because,” James interjected, “he and Tonks want to celebrate just as a family now that they have the baby.”

“And Sirius,” added Lily with a grin. James returned her smile.

“Ah, yes, the adult baby. I need to owl him about something, now that you mention it.”

“I just don’t think it’s right to make the house elves cook for us. Shouldn’t they be able to celebrate the holiday?”

James and Lily both looked curiously at their son. “Since when did you care about house elves’ holidays?” James asked.

“I don’t,” Harry replied. “It’s just something Hermione was saying.”

“I think Hermione’s heart is well-placed,” Lily said. “But she may be wise to actually ask those same house elves what they think about the matter.”

“But some of them get treated pretty rottenly. Hermione was telling me about the Malfoys, you know the blond 7 th year who always looks like he has some dung under his nose?”

James snorted and Lily had to bite her knuckles. “Yes, I am aware of the boy. Decent in potions, at least. And your father has been getting well acquainted with his father.” She looked at James, who pretended to gag.

“Well, they treat their house elf awfully. So why shouldn’t they be free?”

“Some should, I suppose, those that wish for freedom. But I think each elf should have the choice to do what makes them happy. And all should be treated with respect and care. It is like your godfather always says. ‘If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.”

A bell chimed in the distance. “Lily, we need to get going.” James wrapped a scarf around his neck.

“Remember,” Lily said to Harry, “Seven sharp.” And with that, Harry’s parents left for Hogsmeade.

Normally, Harry would have loved nothing more than to spend the day in a near-deserted Hogsmeade, having all the stores to himself. But he had more pressing matters to attend to. He dashed through the castle, up to his dorm room, and knelt at his bed, reaching for a piece of parchment he kept hidden.

Pulling out the parchment, his eyes scanned the contents. He had spent hours writing and rewriting, never sure if what he was saying was what one was supposed to say in such a letter. He’d simply never written one like this before. Harry was unsure if he was supposed to keep it casual or be direct and full of his feelings. He was never one to outwardly express his feelings, and putting them down on parchment felt even weirder. But, in the end, he had done it. His first letter to Ginny. He read it one last time.

_ Dear Ginny, _

_ Hi! How’s your holiday going? Mine has been uneventful. It’s odd with the castle being so empty. I’m so used to the noise of the dorms keeping me up at night that I’ve had a hard time going to sleep with it so quiet. Mental, isn’t it? But on the plus side, I have loads of time to fly. I’ve been practicing a bunch and Slytherin won’t know what they’re in for when we play them next month! _

_ Have you been flying much? I remember you telling me about how the Burrow has a large field that’s great for pick-up games with your brothers. Maybe someday I could see it. Perhaps when your brothers are not around, though I’m pretty sure I could outfly them. _

_ My family is having Christmas dinner at the school tonight. It’s a bit weird, not being in France for the holidays. As much as I wished to be in England during past holidays, now that it’s actually happening (well, not England, exactly), it feels a bit off. Colder than it should be. But then again, Christmas is supposed to be cold, no? _

_ Sorry for rambling. I feel a bit out of sorts. I guess it’s because you’re not here. The castle feels different without your red hair streaking down the halls. _

_ I hope you have a great holiday and get that signed picture of Gwenog Jones you were angling for. _

_~~ I miss you ~~ _ _ I can’t wait to see you when you return. _

_ Reggie _

Harry and Ginny agreed to use alternate names just in case their letters got into the wrong hands. He was a bit worried he gave away too much in the letter as to his true identity, but it was getting late and Harry wanted the letter to arrive before Ginny’s dinner.

Sealing the letter in an envelope, Harry darted out the Gryffindor dorms and headed to the owlery. He tied his letter to a large, brown school owl and watched as it disappeared into the sky.

Harry puttered around the castle until it was time to get dressed for dinner. He changed into a nice buttoned-down Oxford and slacks, which was a welcome departure from the robes he wore at school, and headed down to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was filled with reds and greens. There were massive evergreen trees lining the walls of the castle, with an even larger tree in the center near the lectern where Dumbledore typically addressed the students from. The tree was a rich green with silver tinsel draped from bottom to top, and a bright, shimmering star adorned the very tip. 

Harry also noticed that rather than four long tables running from end to end of the Hall, there were several circular tables, each covered in red and green, though not Gryffindor red or Slytherin green. Most tables were empty, save one in the corner that was occupied by the few Professors and staff that remained at the castle for the holidays, and another occupied by the best sight Harry had seen in some time.

Rosie, Simon and Jack were laughing together at their family table while Harry’s Mum was pouring pumpkin juice and his Dad was singing yuletide carols. Harry assumed he had broken into the Christmas spirits a bit early.

Harry walked briskly to the table, having to stop himself from breaking out in an outright sprint.

“Started without me, I see?” he said, and the Potters all turned in his direction.

“Harry!” Rosie shouted, launching herself at him and embracing him in a fierce hug. She released him and swatted his arm. “Why didn’t you come visit me today?”

Harry blushed. “I had a thing I had to do. But I’ll swing by the shop tomorrow.”

“You better. It’s going to be a madhouse and I could all my brothers’ help.”

“Oi! I’m on vacation!” Harry said. Simon and Jack laughed as they both embraced Harry as well.

“Good to see you, mate,” Simon thumped him on the back. “How’s this old place been treating you?’

“It’s had its ups and downs,” Harry replied with a sly smile.

“Breaking hearts already, I see. Not that I’d expect any less for a Triwizard Champion. Seriously, well done!”

“Agreed,” added Jack, “though I wished you took more after your favorite brother and not be such an overachiever. But I suppose battling dragons is pretty badass.”

“Coming from you, that means a lot,” Harry said. He took his seat as food began to appear in front of them. Most of the dinner conversation centered on Simon’s recent play for the Quidditch league. Simon, for his part, wanted to hear more about Harry’s experiences on the Gryffindor team.

“You sure you don’t want to play professionally?” he asked.

Harry shook his head. “Quidditch is fun but to have those practices every day would take the joy out of it, I reckon.”

“Captain is a real workhorse?” Rosie asked.

“Er, yeah, something like that.”

“That’s an understatement,” James interjected. “Guess who his captain is?”

Harry’s siblings looked blankly back at James.

“A bloody Weasley.”

“No way!” shouted Simon. 

“What a shock,” added Rosie. “Hogwarts always favored those Weasleys.”

A murmur of agreement rose from the table and Harry caught his mum’s eye before she quickly went back to scooping roasted potatoes onto her plate.

“So is that tall bloke, Ron?” asked Simon.

“No, it’s Ginny, the youngest. She’s actually in my year, and—”

“A girl?” exclaimed Simon.

“Oi!” shouted Jack and Rosie at the same time. 

“What’s wrong with a girl Quidditch captain?” said Rosie.

“Nothing, nothing! Three of my teammates are girls. Just a bloody shame, isn’t it? To have the Weasley girl in charge. Bit too much like her mum, I bet. Right Dad?”

“Can’t imagine having that woman in charge of me,” James said lowly. “It makes me almost feel sorry for Arthur.”

“Sorry for a Weasley?” Jack said.

Harry raised his eyes at the comment from his brother. While he knew Jack was no fan of the Weasleys, he had never really heard him say anything untoward about the family. Harry saw his mum frown.

“Sorry, Mum,” Jack said, clearly seeing Lily’s displeasure as well. “I know you don’t love us ragging on them, but I had a bit of a run-in with those twins today. Apparently, they opened up another one of those dreadful joke shops.”

“Don’t remind me!” Rosie shouted. “They drive me bonkers. I think they chase away the respectable customers who shop at the apothecary.”

“Now Rosie,” Lily said, placing a hand over Rosie’s on the table. “A joke shop won’t have any effect on your store. Remember in Paris how our shop was next to that awful pet store? It just drove more business to us seeking potions getting rid of wet dog smell. I’m sure you’ll see even more businesses from customers looking for remedies for blisters and boils.”

“I suppose,” she grumbled in response.

“Anyway,” Simon interjected, “it’s a good thing you play seeker, no? You don’t need to listen to that insufferable mini-Molly, right Harry?”

“Er, yeah. Exactly.”

“You’re probably the only reason Gryffindor won their first match. Rest of the team must be awful. I mean, two Weasleys and one of them captain! Ha!”

“She’s a load better than you were at that age!” Harry yelled. His family stared at him, the mass of black eyebrows reaching the edge of their scalps.

“Are you really defending Weasleys?” Simon said with a grin.

Harry’s neck grew hot and his face flushed. “Of course not. I’m defending my _teammates_. And we all won that game. Got it?”

“Fine, got it. Merlin, Hogwarts turning you soft, ickle Harry.”

“That’s enough, Simon,” Lily scolded. The Potters became silent, the scraping of the silverware the only sound coming from their table.

“Not hungry, son?” James asked.

“Guess not,” Harry replied, pushing around some chicken with his fork. “Seems having a bunch of Potters around spoiled my appetite.” He glared at Simon, who had the decency to look ashamed.

“You lot are family,” James announced. “And I won’t have the Weasleys spoil our first dinner together in months.” He turned to Jack, who had a mouthful of potatoes. “How’re your travels going?”

Harry was thankful for the attention being diverted from him and he forced some chicken down. From the moment they first kissed, Harry wondered if he and Ginny were getting in way over their heads. But as he watched his family interact, the way Simon and Jack stole dessert off of Rosie’s plate without her noticing, the way his dad stroked his mum’s arm as he sipped his firewhiskey, Harry realized that perhaps there was hope, after all. Because his family were good people, full of love and kindness and a bit of spunk. And the more Harry thought about it, the more he came to the realization that the Weasleys could not be all that bad if Ginny was any indication. Even Professor Weasley seemed to be a patient, kind man, despite Harry’s best efforts.

If they could just meet Ginny, Harry thought, perhaps his dad and siblings could let things remain in the past and move on like he did. Well, not exactly like he did. Harry shuddered at the idea of Rosie snogging one of the Weasley twins.

Spirits lifted, Harry began shoveling food into his mouth and asking Jack about the women in Tahiti.

Some hours later, with his belly full of chicken and treacle tart, Harry slogged his way back to his empty dorm room. He wanted to get a good night’s rest so he could spend Boxing Day traipsing around Hogsmeade with his family. It was a tradition for the Potters to spend the day shopping before having afternoon tea, or elfwine for the adults, and a modest supper. This would be the first time celebrating in Hogsmeade, though, and Harry was eager for the day to arrive.

As he was washing his face, Harry heard the distinct sound of tapping on the window. He peeked out of the washroom to see a brown owl outside. As he opened the window to let the owl in, Harry noticed how worn down and ancient the owl looked, her feathers sticking out in places. 

In its claw was a piece of parchment. Harry grabbed a few knuts from his dresser and deposited them in the owl’s other claw, prompting the bird to drop the letter and then take up residence on Harry’s trunk. Harry unrolled the parchment and began reading.

_ Dearest Reginald Hempshire the Fourth, _

_ Sorry I didn’t write sooner but I was distracted by desperately missing you and counting the number of sunsets until we could be together again. Either that or I just got lazy and ate too much Christmas chicken and potatoes. But I do miss seeing you. _

_ I was figuring how to speak in code and made a right mess of it, so if the wrong person finds this, you’ll have a lot of explaining to do. Sucks to be you! _

_ How’s Hogwarts without a couple Weasleys running around to drive you mental? Did you get to see your family? Did Jack come? Of all your siblings I’m predisposed to loathe, he seems least awful. Kind of like Bill is for our family. Mum is driving me batty. She keeps asking me if I’ve given thought to a Ministry career since Quidditch is so dangerous and difficult. I’ve told her time and time again that if Quidditch doesn’t pan out, I can always sell my hair and toenails in Knockturn Alley, so she shouldn’t worry! But seriously, that sounds loads better than sitting at a desk in the Ministry.  _

_ Hermione came to spend Christmas Eve and day with us. Ron kept trying to sneak off with her for some snogging and Merlin knows-what-else. I had to cast a silencing charm last night outside his bedroom. Yuck. If you ever come over, we are soooo giving Ron a taste of his own medicine! _

Harry gulped and stared at the last line. Did she really mean what he thought she meant? Shaking his head of those thoughts, he continued reading, occasionally laughing at Ginny explaining her insane family Christmas traditions or making fun of some columnist for the Daily Prophet. But his heart skipped a beat when he got to the end of the letter.

_ Guess what? The whole family is coming to Hogsmeade to check out the shop Fred and George are opening up! I can most definitely sneak off to see you if you can free yourself from your oh-so-busy schedule of flying and loafing around. With 9 of us, it should be easy to escape for a meetup. We’ll be arriving around tea time. Mum said we were to arrive by noon but knowing us Weasleys, it is safe to assume we’ll run about three hours late. Meet me at the Hog’s Head. It is a bit dingy but usually empty, so we should have some privacy for you to serenade me with sonnets of my incredible beauty. I just hope my old owl reaches you in time. I don’t fancy having to trudge all the way up to the castle to capture you. _

_ Mum’s calling me to help peel the potatoes. Honestly, the woman seems intent on making me a proper Muggle housewife! _

_ Can’t wait to see you, _

_ Her Highness Lady Godiva of Nottingham _

Harry folded the parchment and put it on his dresser before collapsing on his bed, a huge smile plastered across his face. Ginny was coming tomorrow. He would get to see her face, count the freckles on her nose, feel the softness of her lips on his.

Harry shook his head. _Boy, I have it bad,_ he thought. He also scolded himself for such a short letter to Ginny, when hers had stretched on for several pages. He’d have to make it up to her somehow. Harry thought deeply about it before deciding to head into Hogsmeade a little earlier tomorrow.

When the sun Rosie on Boxing Day, Harry bounced out of bed with an energy usually reserved for Quidditch match days. He threw on some jeans, a relatively clean vest and some worn trainers and headed down and out of the common room.

Harry was nearly out of the castle when he heard his mum call to him.

“Where do you think you’re off to so early?”

“Into Hogsmeade,” Harry replied.

“But what about breakfast. Your brothers want to spend some time with you, you know.”

“I’ll see them later tonight. I want to check out Rosie’s shop. Like you’ve been nagging me to all this time, remember?”

Lily’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, go be a good brother to your sister. Forget about the delicious breakfast I slaved hours over.”

“Mum, the house elves made breakfast,” Harry rolled his eyes and made his way outside.

“I helped Winky make the toast!” she called out as he sprinted out the gates.

Soon enough, Harry found himself in the crowded alleys of Hogsmeade. While normally deserted when students were on holiday, today the shops were all filled to the brim as witches and wizards took advantage of the Boxing Day sales. Taking advantage of his seeker skills, Harry darted between shoppers and pushed his way into Rosie’s apothecary, the bell chiming as he closed the door behind him.

The shop was crowded, shoppers bumping into each other and the products with such regularity that a charm was added to prevent vials from crashing to the floor. Harry searched for his sister but could not find her at the register. He began eyeing the products, in search of something perfect for Ginny. For a moment on his way into the village, he wondered if it was coming on way too strong to be getting her a Christmas gift. But he wanted to make it up to Ginny for writing such a short letter compared to hers and in the end, he resolved he wanted to get her something nice, and if she read too much into the gift, so be it.

But now, standing in front of a row of swirling pink vials with words like “love” and “desire” written on them, he wondered if he was in over his head.

“Who’s the witch?” a voice whispered into his ear. He swung around to see Rosie, arms full of products and wearing a sly grin like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh, hey Rosie. Er, no witch. Just looking is all,” Harry knew she would see right through him. Rosie always seemed to know when Harry was lying. She had a natural gift for figuring out a person just by the look on their face.

“Looking in our Romance section? This better not be for Mum.”

“Eww!” Harry recoiled. “It’s not for Mum. I already got her present in the owl post days ago.”

“So it _is_ for someone! Ickle Harry has a partner! Who are they?”

“Fine, you solved it. I’m dating someone. She’s great. Now can you help me pick out a gift or not?”

Rosie smiled and walked Harry through the crowds, loading various items into a basket floating nearby.

Several minutes later, he finally exited his sister’s shop, pockets light but hands full. Glancing at the watch his parents got him, he realized he had a few hours to kill until Ginny arrived. Harry took his time strolling through Hogsmeade, reveling in the madness swirling around him. Eventually he found a seat outside the pub owned by Madam Rosmerta and nursed a hot cider as he watched families bustling about, mothers yanking uncooperative kids with them as they headed from store to store.

As the sun rose higher into the sky, Harry took his time getting to the Hog’s Head, which was off the beaten path of the village. The wooden sign above the inn aptly featured a floating pig’s head with the name of the inn surrounding it, the “e” missing. Harry pushed through the doors, the sunlight serving as disinfectant on the pub, several rats scurrying for safety. 

Dust covered every inch of the pub, and Harry wondered if the secrecy it provided was worth the distinct lack of a clean place to sit for Ginny and him. Harry muttered a cleaning spell at three of the stools by the bar and took the middle seat, placing his bags on the seat to his right. He looked around for the barkeep, but he reckoned good customer service was a naive expectation. He coughed loudly and eventually heard the loud squeak of a door from the back. A large man with a dingy beard sauntered out, a dirty rag slung over his shoulder. His face was weathered with age and more than a few brutal Scottish winters, by the look of him. Harry thought he was an all-together cold man, but his eyes looked familiar and surprisingly warm.

“Whaddya want?”

“Er…” Harry looked around the pub and decided an unopened bottle of Butterbeer was the safest option.”

The barkeep grunted and a butterbeer appeared out of nothing in front of Harry. He wiped the top and took a small sip.

“So, busy day?” Harry asked, trying to make conversation. 

“You blind, boy?”

Harry felt his face go red. Indeed, the inn looked as though it hadn’t had visitors in a fortnight. Harry stared into his drink, but he felt eyes on him. Tentatively, he glanced up to see the barkeep staring at him.

“You look familiar,” he said, scowling. Harry didn’t know what he did to offend the man aside from having the nerve to come in, but he started getting peeved at him, nonetheless.

“Funny, you’d think with such a booming business, you’d have trouble remembering faces.”

The barkeep’s scowl deepened for a moment before it faded, and he went about cleaning a dirty mug with his dirty rag.

“Thought you were a Potter.”

Harry titled his head. “How’d you know?”

“Same smart mouth on you,” he huffed. “And the hair is a giveaway. Not the eyes though. Remind me more of your mother. Your dad was a right pain, but yer Mum was good people.”

“Were you a professor? Is that how you know them so well?”

“Don’t be daft,” he said. “Your dad was sneaking into here since he was a third year. Kept having to kick him out for stealing Firewhiskey along with that nasty Black boy. No, your Mum liked to bring me scones. She hosted some school meetings and kept your Dad in line when the two of them got together. Except, of course, when that Snape boy came in. Nearly turned my fine pub into a wreck with spellfire those two.”

“You sure know a lot of school gossip for a barkeep, no?” Harry smirked a bit.

“Another pompous Potter arse,” he grunted before disappearing behind the back door.

“I see you’ve become well acquainted with Aberforth,” a voice called;Harry swiveled on his stool to see Ginny walk in, the sunlight illuminating her hair.

“Hi,” he breathed out before jumping out of his stool and grabbing Ginny in his arms. Her eyes widened as he kissed her, not caring if anyone saw. He just needed her lips on his. Ginny responded and two spent the next minute battling for dominance. Eventually, they broke apart and Ginny took the stool next to Harry’s at the bar.

“You seriously couldn’t have picked a better place to meet? I understand the need for secrecy, but even the Shrieking Shack is more welcoming .”

“Did ole Abe hurt your feelings?” Ginny patted him on the head. “Don’t worry, Abe is a softy.”

Just then, a clean glass filled with Firewhiskey appeared in front of her. How’d you manage that?” Harry asked, nodding at the glass.

“Oh, Abe is a softy once you get to know him. The trick is to not say anything to him for the first dozen visits or so. Abe hates noise.”

“I can tell. Though you’d think opening a pub isn’t the best choice if you crave solitude, no?”

“Oh, he only took this place over when his parents died. It was either him or his brother, Professor Dumbledore, and I think we all knew who would run this place between the two of them.

A look of dawning came over his face. “I thought he looked a bit familiar.”

“Small world we live in,” Ginny said, taking a swig of her drink.

“So I felt a bit bad about my letter—”

“What was wrong with your letter?” Ginny interrupted. “I lo-really enjoyed it!”

“Wasn’t as long as yours, didn’t want you to feel put out with me over it. So I got you something?”

“Harry, you really don’t have to be getting me gifts and spoiling me. I’m not like Lavender.”

Harry shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I just never really got a chance to do this before.”

Before she could argue any further, Harry placed a small bag in her lap. Ginny eyed the packaging before tearing it open to reveal a set of perfumes and other potions.”

“Not that you need to smell any better,” he said, worried Ginny would not appreciate the gift. “I love the way you smell, actually. Very flowery. So I thought maybe you’d like more flower-smelling things.”

But Harry could not explain any further as Ginny pushed away from the stool and draped both arms around his neck.

“You really are good at this boyfriend thing, you know that?” And she leaned in to kiss him. Harry responded on instinct, deepening the kiss.

“Ahem!” Aberforth bellowed. “This ain’t a brothel, out with the snogging or out with you, will ya Potter!”

Reluctantly the pair broke apart.

“Why did he just yell at me?” Harry complained.

“Ole Abe just likes me is all,” Ginny said, her voice too casual for Harry’s liking. He stared her down until she threw up her hands. “Fine, Abe has a sweet tooth. Best way to get on his good side is with biscuits. Mum’s recipe, especially.”

Harry’s stomach tingled and he downed the rest of his butterbeer, a new one materializing moments later.

“So where is the rest of the Weasley clan?”

“Oh most likely at the twins’ shop. They wanted to make sure they opened in time for the holidays. I went by earlier. They are doing loads of business. Probably the busiest shop in Hogsmeade.” Ginny puffed her chest out in pride over her older brothers’ success.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Harry countered. “My sister’s apothecary was filled wall-to-wall today.”

“Figured that had something to do with your choice in gift. Does she give you a discount? Fred and George give me 20% off. Bill and Charlie get 15%. Percy gets none and Ron has to pay an extra 10%.”

“Are you all of your brothers’ favorite or just the twins?”

Ginny ran her finger along the rim of her glass before sucking the firewhiskey from her finger. Harry grew hot under his collar. “Oh, I’m _everyone’s_ favorite. Thought you figured that out by now.”

Harry inched closer, his mouth inches from her ear. “As long as I’m _your_ favorite, it’s good with me.”

Their lips felt drawn to each other like magnets. But Harry saw Aberforth out of the corner of his eye and pulled back.

“This is tougher than I thought it would be,” he said.

“Agreed. It’s stuffy in here. Thoughts about visiting the Shrieking Shack. I was told it was a more comfortable option for privacy.”

“Right behind you, Weasley.” Harry grinned and followed Ginny out the door. He saw her glance down the lane, and once the coast was clear, she beckoned him to follow.

Into the bristling cold they went, making sure to stay close to the walls of the shoppes near the outskirts of town. It was a direct path to the Shrieking Shack and Harry exhaled as he knew they were safely out of site. He went to grab Ginny’s hand when he heard a loud explosion of glass.

Instinctively, Harry drew his wand and stepped in front of Ginny. But she ducked under his outstretched arm with her own wand in hand and headed towards the noise.

Making sure to keep a low profile, Harry and Ginny came upon a billow of dark grey smoke emanating from a shop.

“Rosie,” Harry said lowly, and his eyes lit with fear. He turned to Ginny, but words were not needed. She nodded and Harry took off towards the shop. He shoved his way through the crowd that had gathered and soon came upon hordes of customers covered in pink slime. The windows of the apothecary were blown out and most of the products were broken and scattered on the floor. Smoke and bubbles fizzled on the ground, the remnants of spent potions. 

Soon enough, Rosie emerged, covered head to toe in the pink slime. Thankfully, she looked uninjured. 

Yet Rosie was furious.

“Where. Are. They?” she called to no one in particular. “WHERE ARE THEY?!” she shouted before stomping off towards the busiest part of Hogsmeade. The crowd followed her, Harry and Ginny included.

Rosie stomped to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes and threw open the door. Harry darted in just as the door closed behind her.

“Fred and George, get your freckled arses out here RIGHT NOW!” Harry had never heard Rosie so angry. He could swear smoke was escaping from her ears.

The twins poked their heads out. “We have a customer, Fred?”

“Looks like it, George!” Fred gave Rosie a once-over. “And a messy customer at that! I’m sorry, miss, but we have certain standards of hygiene in our store. I must insist you bathe before entering.”

Rosie fumed but said nothing. Instead, Harry watched as she raised her own wand and pointed it above the register towards the back of the shop.

Harry’s eyes widened and he shouted to know one in particular. “Everyone out!”

Harry and few others darted outside before another loud explosion rocked Hogsmeade. The road was showered with toys and jokes, canary creams falling from the sky next to the shards of Daydream Charms and Puking Pasties.

Harry, who was on the ground, looked up to see Rosie exiting the store with a satisfied smirk on her face. Moments later the twins emerged, though they looked less like themselves and more like two identical large chickens, beaks and all.

One of the twins opened his beak, but instead of words, he could only muster an angry series of clucks. Harry couldn’t help but snicker. He looked for Ginny among the crowd that had formed but could not see her. What he could make out was a line of red hair moving through the crowd.

“Fred! George! What have they done to you?” cried the voice of Molly Weasley. She was flanked by Arthur and Ron with the rest of the Weasley clan, save Ginny, following closely behind. 

The other chicken clucked and scraped the ground with its feet. Bill Weasley stepped out from behind and waved his wand. In a flash, the chickens were gone and Fred and George reappeared, clothes rustled but otherwise fine.

“Where is she?” bellowed Fred, searching for his wand in his robes.

“Who, dear?” Molly said as she moved to comfort Fred and George.

“Potter! Who else?” added George.

“James?” she said lowly, fingering her own wand.

“No, Rosie Potter.”

“Someone say my name?” Harry’s sister emerged from the crowd, still half-covered in pink slime.

“You stay away from my boys,” Molly said, standing taller, her wand pointed directly at Rosie.

“I will if they will! They destroyed my shop!”

“We did no such thing, did we Fred?”

“Just minding our own shop when this one comes in like a banshee leveling everything.”

“Oh, and I suppose my shop simply exploded on its own? I just _like_ wearing pink slime?”

Fred and George shared a look. “Well, you were rather lackluster in potions if I recall correctly,” Fred said.

“I’ll kill you!” Rosie screeched before launching herself at the twins. Harry made to intercept her, but before he could act, Molly shouted “Stupefy” and Rosie crumpled to the ground.

At that very moment, several loud pops were heard. The Potters had arrived. Lily was out in front, closely followed by James, Simon and Jack, their wands all drawn.

“Rosie!” Lily shouted before rushing over to where her body laid. “What have you done?”

Molly held her nose up. “What have I done? What has your terror of a daughter done? Look at my boys’ shop!”

“So you _stun_ her?” Lily yelled. Harry was taken aback at the fierceness in her voice. Normally, Lily was the voice of reason in the feud between the families, but now she looked ready to tear Molly’s hair out.

James grabbed Lily and placed himself between the family matriarchs. Lily shifted her attention back to her daughter, muttering a spell under her breath. Soon, Rosie stirred.

“What happened?” she said, rubbing her eyes. She then looked up at Molly. “You absolutely vile woman!” Rosie jumped to her feet and raised her wand at Molly, prompting every other Weasley, save Arthur and Ginny, to raise theirs in response. Soon a dozen wands were pointed at one another.

“Don’t slag our Mum off,” cried George.

“Tell her not to go flying off her broom hexing our family then!” shouted Simon.

“Mind your own business,” Charlie said, pushing his way to the front.

“Oh, look, the little dragon tamer who was so afraid of me that he kept me off the Quidditch team!”

“I did you a favor, judging by the way you’re stinking up the British league. Should have stayed with your French side and saved yourself the embarrassment.”

Simon laughed. “That’s rich coming from the bloke who was too scared to even try out for the National team. You hear I’ve been asked to play in the next World Cup?”

“I’ll be sure to wager on the other teams then,” Charlie smirked, not seeing the hex Jack threw from under James’ arm. “Oww!” he yelped as the spell connected with his hand, forcing him to drop his arm.

Simon glanced at Jack, who smiled innocently. The Weasley twins must’ve also noticed Jack firing the hex because soon the two families were flinging hexes left and right at each other. James and Molly were going back and forth, Molly throwing spells that Harry had never heard of that James was doing his best to deflect. Charlie and Simon, the two brawniest of the bunch, decided to forgo wands and started punching each other. Blood splayed on the snowbanks but neither relented.

Harry had enough of watching from the sidelines and threw himself into the fight. But no sooner did he get a hand on Ron than he was thrown backwards into the snow. He adjusted his glasses in time to see Arthur looking down on him, shaking his head. Harry’s first reaction was to be angry at his professor, but when he saw the expression on the man’s face, Harry realized there was no malice behind his eyes. He was protecting him. Arthur gave a small smile before turning to the melee in front of him. He began separating his family from the Potters. Harry saw his mum doing the same.

“I think we should all calm down,” Arthur began before Molly cut him off. “I’ll calm down when the Potters leave this place.”

“Don’t you worry,” James responded with a snort. “We wouldn’t want to spend an extra second in Hogsmeade so long as you lot are here.”

“My Mum doesn’t mean just here,” Bill said for the first time. Harry noticed just how imposing the eldest Weasley child looked. The sunlight reflecting off his earring momentarily blinded all who looked at him. “You have no right being in England or at Hogwarts.” Bill stole a glance at Harry, who scowled back at him.

“I know you Weasleys think you run things here because there are so bloody many of you,” James said, “but my family belongs here. And if it wasn’t for you, we’d never have left.”

“You don’t belong here!” Molly shouted, her voice breaking. “We were doing fine without you here. Now, I can’t go a night without dreaming of them.” She didn’t say their names, but everyone immediately knew who Molly was referring to. James’ face dropped. “Every day I see your name in the paper, or your son’s name, it’s a reminder of what you did. Just leave and give my family our peace back.”

Harry looked to his father, no longer seeing the anger in his face. Instead, he suddenly looked tired and worn. “I will always be sorry for what happened to Gideon and Fabian, but it was not my fault. I implore you, Molly, for the safety of your family, to move on.”

“I’ll move on when you’re gone from here for good,” she said before collapsing into Arthur’s chest, her tears wetting his robes.

It was then that more pops could be heard. Harry turned to see nearly a dozen witches and wizards cloaked in red advancing towards them. The Aurors had arrived.

A tall, bald Auror with large golden earrings approached James.

“Why did I just know,” his baritone voice said smoothly, “that when I got an emergency floo right before my family and I were to head out that it would be your fault?”

James grinned. “Maybe you were just hoping to see me after so long apart, Kingsley?”

“I saw you two days ago?” The two men laughed and shook hands. Kingsley surveyed the village, noting the broken glass, chicken feathers and pink slime on the ground. “Were Boxing Day sales that good?”

“Unfortunately, not. We had a bit of a run-in with some less-than-desirable folks.”

“And I’m sure if I asked Molly,” he said, nodding towards the woman, “she’d say something similar.” Kingsley shook his head. “It’s been relatively peaceful the last few years, James. I’d like to keep it that way so I can retire before I’m dead.”

“I’ll try my best,” James responded, shaking Kingsley’s hand. The auror then went over and spoke briefly with Arthur. Harry saw the pair laugh and figured Kingsley was friendly with the Weasleys as well.

Eventually, the families went their separate ways and the crowd dissipated. Harry told his mum that he would meet them up a bit later to continue their shopping, and he left to find Ginny.

After searching the main street, Harry decided to check out the hidden alleyways. Sure enough, he found Ginny sitting on a bench in a small park, her head hanging low. She shot up when she heard the crunch of snow from Harry’s shoe. She smiled at him, but her smile did not reach her eyes.

Harry tentatively walked over to her, brushing off some snow on the bench and taking a seat next to her. For a while neither spoke. But as was usually the case, it was Ginny who broke the ice.

“We can’t tell them, can we?” Ginny finally said.

Harry let out a deep breath and watched the vapors float into the air and disappear. “Reckon that would be a barmy idea at this point.”

He grabbed her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

But Ginny didn’t answer and neither did Harry. Because they both didn’t want to face the truth. Instead, they held each other, watching the snow begin to fall around them, hearing the sounds of the bustling village and enjoying the last bit of peace before everything inevitably went to hell.


End file.
